In Bold Print
by staceleo
Summary: Set in the 1940's, Isabella Swan is a reporter trying to clear her father's name and get respect as a female journalist. Edward Cullen is the trying to scoop her on the story of a lifetime. Can they work together and find love along the way?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my ode to the great stories of the 1940's. **

**Any mistakes are mine. There is a glossary of terms and history about the 1940's at the bottom of the chapter.**

**Thank you for reading.**

In Bold Print

Chapter 1

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

The thin wood of my pencil connected rapidly with the dark, worn wood of my desk. There was no steady beat, just the rhythm of my impatience creating the symphony of my discontent. I stared at the black phone sitting next to my empty typewriter and tried to make it ring with my mind fixated it's smooth, black metal. If you think positively enough, you can will it to happen. Not that I believe that nonsense, but I was so bored with inaction I was willing to try.

"Goddamn it, Swan! Cut out that racket! Some of us have stories to write. You aren't going to be the next Dorsey Brothers playing that off beat drumming. Why don't you harass some Women's Society Luncheon? Find out the type of table linens they like to use?" Waylon Jennings cackled at me, his large stomach jiggling in waves.

Now I couldn't get too mad at old Waylon. He was a true bona fide news man, in the tallest order. He was one of the few remaining old-timers at _The Seattle Chronicle_. His breed of reporter was quickly being replaced by a bunch of dandies that the boss man recently hired. Those men came in here with their greased hair and slimy attitudes, more intent on scoring a date with a share crop than landing a career defining story on the front page. Waylon Jennings, on the other hand, was the real deal. His fingers permanently stained with typewriter ink, shirt partially hanging out from worn pants and bright suspenders pulled tightly over his paunch. Paunch that was created by too many steaks, countless cigars and a nightly bottle of whisky consumed in the late hours at the local pubs with his cronies, telling past tales of discovering the seedy underbelly of the big city. In this journalist's humble opinion, Waylon Jennings had earned these vices and many more, because that man could sniff out a scandal like nobody's business. A woman couldn't ask for a better mentor. However, that cranky coot wasn't going to get away with ribbing me about 'Society Luncheons'.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You talk to a lady, with a mouth like that old man? Why don't you grab that bottle of scotch hidden in your desk, take a swig then proceed to shove that 'Society Luncheon' up your fat as…"

"You are no lady, Swanie. Simmer down. They don't want the likes of a rough and tumble tomboy like you mudding up their hallowed halls. Take a look at these papers for me. I might even want some of your questionable input." He waved a pile of papers in the air at me and tossed them back onto his desk. "This should help pass the time, until the Boss Man sends you to a Puppy Fashion Show or maybe a Toddler Talent Contest."

I stood up and stomped over to Waylon's desk, as he sat there chuckling at me with his deep baritone. I looked at garbage pile he called his desk with a frown. It was covered from right to left with stained notebooks, coffee stained papers, half-eaten pastries and broken pencils. "Pass it over. You could get the bubonic plague from that pig sty, Waylon."

"Don't mess with the system, young'un!" He glanced down at my outfit. "Damn it, Swan. You don't even pretend to be a broad! Ever try wearing a skirt? Are you afraid to flash those gams at the male populace?"

"Cut it out!" I grimaced looking down at my trousers. "You clean your desk and I start dressing like a dame."

Waylon handed me a pile of papers and laughed. "Enjoy your man pants, kid."

I gave him a smile and a wink, while giving a quick glance down at today and every day's ensemble. They were my younger brother Seth's trousers and shirts to be exact. Now that the cad was being straightened out in the armed services, it was military issue for him and hand me downs for me. My roommate, the one and only, Alice Brandon balked at taking them in for me after trying to shove me into a dress. Luckily, she was always up for a challenge and attempted to try and make them a bit more feminine. Only a bit more feminine, mind you, because when you are the only female reporter in the newsroom, a skirt only becomes a symbol of weakness. In a den of tenacious men, who yearned for the make or break story, you needed to be taken seriously. Even if I had to pencil on a mustache to make those men forget I was a dame, the name Isabella Swan _will_ command the same respect as my coworkers. You can bet your bottom dollar on it!

The Society Page is a soul crushing experience of wedding announcements, local parade coverage and the random public interest story. It was mind crushing, because in this feminine body there was a hard boiled reporter digging herself out and trying to find the truth to set her old man free. Revenge and retribution wasn't the only reason for me toiling away behind the clacking black keys. The newsroom was my solace. These dark grimy walls covered in story ideas, haphazardly tacked to peeling paint was my comfort. The smell of the thick cigarette and cigar smoke wafting through the air was the smell of home. Those steady clicks surrounding me of my colleagues' typewriter keys were the noise that my subconscious drummed up to lull me asleep as I laid my head upon my pillow. This was the real me in this room and the best way to ferret out the truth to save my Pops.

I shook my head. Keep your eye on the prize, Bella Swan. You can't do anything to help Charlie today. I looked down at Waylon's article. What?

**The Black Family Syndicate**

**List of Associates and Cargo Containers**

Great Caesar's Ghost! What did Waylon just give me? This was all the goods on those no good Blacks! Both Billy and his dirty son, Jacob could possibly be sent down the river if these leads panned out. I looked up to that wily old coot looking at me with a smirk.

"Where did you get this?" I questioned. Waylon put a finger to his lips, making me quickly clamp my mouth shut.

He rose as quickly as he wide girth would allow and with a loud creak of his chair alerting the whole room to his movements. Waylon Jennings waddled over to me and placed a large sweaty paw on my shoulder and leaned over to whisper, "Hush now. Don't let the goods outta the bag. We are going to do this for your Pop, Kid. He was one of the best lawmen a man like me ever had the pleasure to know. Unfortunately, I am too old and slow for a mission of this importance. Not to mention digging into the Black's questionable garbage. You'll have to go in the trenches for me, Bella. For a girl, you are surprisingly smart. You can do it." He gave a tug to a wayward lock that escaped from the bun on my head. "Yorkie can be your Girl Friday. The kid's green, but his photographs aren't too shabby. He's too scared of his own shadow to be corrupt. You can break him in and toughen that thin skin of his."

Waylon and I looked over at Eric Yorkie, Junior Assistant Photographer Extraordinaire. His rumpled appearance punctuated by spots of photo dyes covering his clothing, as Eric frantically pushed around the photo proofs that littered his desk. Yorkie sat down in a huff and the sound of cracking filled my ears. He quickly stood up and exclaimed, "Gee whiz! That's where they went! Oh boy, this is a mess!"

I watched as he picked up a pair of eye glasses that lenses were cracked and held them out for inspection. Yorkie sighed and pushed them onto his face. I looked at Waylon aghast. "You can't be serious? Have you been sniffing the typewriter ink again?"

"You were hopeless when you started, Missy! I gave you a chance and you can give him one too."

"If this goes sour, I am taking it out on your precious whisky."

"You wouldn't dare break my whisky, Swan!" Waylon exclaimed, fear filling his crinkly blue eyes.

I smirked, "I was planning on drinking it, you decrepit drunk."

I hopped out of my chair and headed with my head held high to the skinny man, his newsboy cap sitting askew on his dark hair. I announced with bravado, "Yorkie, my boy! I have a proposition for you!"

Eric Yorkie looked flustered, changing several different shades of red. "Aww, Miss Swan. I. Well. You. . . Umm. . . You never talked to me before."

"Then never a better time than the present! You and I are going on a quest for the truth!" I exclaimed with gusto.

"Me?" he squeaked.

I tried to sound positive, "I couldn't think of anyone better for the job!"

"Not even, Mr. Newton?" Yorkie questioned.

Michael Newton was the bane of my existence. Newton had come with the false assumption that he was God's gift to photography. That man made my skin crawl. The worst part was Newton's hands refused to remain where they belonged. Several times, my knee was able to give him an intense pain in his man regions. Surprisingly, Lounge Lizard still couldn't take a hint.

"Eric Yorkie, I refuse to trust such a sensitive assignment to a hack like Newton. You and I, kid are a team!"

"Gee, Miss Swan! That's the cat's meow! The Big Cheese finally trusting us with the _Botanical Garden's Floral Extravaganza_?"

I tried not to slap the boy. "No Eric. This is a secret assignment! Once, it's finished we present our article to Aro. We need to show him we can handle the big news makers."

"Miss Swan, I don't feel good about…" Eric began.

Of course, he didn't. Kids like Yorkie were always worried about the Boss Man. Our Editor-in-Large,

Aaron Volturi, Aro for short, was a nervous nelly. Always worried what his two older brothers, who ran this popsicle stand, would think about his decisions. That made him always err on the side of caution and worry about the potential trouble his lone female reporter could get into.

"Listen up, Yorkie…" I began. At that moment, interrupting my chat with the flustered photographer was the biggest hussy to grace this office, a Miss Jessica Stanley. She was one of those Dumb Doras that made my hair stand on end. Jessica Stanley was all tight dresses and teased hair trying to latch onto the male staff. Rumor had it that she was having rendezvous with the boss under his big oak desk. She wouldn't be the first secretary or the last to play that game.

"Oh my heavens! He's starting today! Can you try to make it look spiffy in here?" Jessica yelled to the assorted staff of the _Chronicle_ mulling around the work area.

I rolled my eyes. "Scram, Jessica! Some of us have work to do."

"This is an important day, Isabella Swan! Edward Cullen has come all away from _The_ _Chicago Sun_ to work here! He is an important writer, not to mention gorgeous! Couldn't you at least try to wear a dress?"

"No. I could not. I do not care about some Chicago dandy. I have no reason to impress your new boy toy…"

I looked away mid-rant as Aro clapped in the doorway. Standing next to him was the handsomest man I had seen in ages. Dapper in a crisp three-piece suit with a face that was both boyish and regal, Edward Cullen is what dear Alice would call a dreamboat. He had bronze hair that was made to have fingers run through it and a rakish smirk that made me want to kiss it then slap it all at once.

I had to pinch myself to look away when Aro spoke, "Please help me welcome the newest member of _The Seattle Chronicle_, Mr. Edward Cullen. Give him a warm welcome and join me in raising him a drink at McClaren's Bar tonight after hours."

Edward Cullen gave the staff a flash of a smile and then fluidly walked over to Eric, Jessica and me. Jessica, for once in her life, was left speechless. Cullen walked closely past me and snaked his arm to my bottom giving it a hard pinch. My mouth dropped open and I turned to look at him. He looked over his shoulder and announced, "Bring me a steaming hot cup of Joe, Doll Face. Black."

He went right over to my desk and plopped into the chair, grabbing my notes from Waylon and settling his legs on top of it. I grabbed a cup of coffee off of Yorkie's desk with a purpose. Eric started to protest when I said with an angry hiss, "Can it, Yorkie!"

Edward Cullen was a dead man. I would bury him with the fishes! I walked up to my desk and the smug fiend sitting there with the cup of Joe held tightly. Cullen looked up with a grin. "This is some fast service around here. Thanks, Sweetheart."

I dumped Eric's coffee into Edward Cullen's lap.

"Wait a damn minute!" Edward Cullen yelled dropping my papers from Waylon back on the desk. "Are you crazy?"

"That was for the inappropriate touching, sitting at my desk and just being the most obnoxious man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, Mister!" I hissed the word 'man' like it was the same as three day old garbage. "Learn you place, Cullen!"

Behind me I heard Aro yell, "In my office now, Isabella Swan!"

I grabbed the very important and life changing notes off my desk, quickly heading towards Aro's office without looking back. The last thing I needed was that cad, Cullen scooping me on the investigation of those devilish Blacks!

Entering Aro's office to face my agitated boss, I heard Waylon loudly exclaim, "That's my girl!"

**Your 1940's slang and important term dictionary terms**

Bet your bottom dollar- Bet your last cent

Broad - Derogatory term for a woman

Cad - An unsavory man

Dame - Term for a woman

Dandies - Fancy males

Dorsey Brothers - 1940's Band

Dumb Doras - A stupid female

Gams - Legs

Girl Friday - A female assistant

Great Caesar's Ghost – a saying to imply surprise

Green - New

Hot cup of Joe - Coffee

Lounge Lizard - A horny man

Nervous nelly - A nervous individual

Rake - An unsavory man

Sent down the river - Sent to jail

Share Crop - Loose woman, one with cheap morals

The Big Cheese - Boss

That's the cat's meow! - Fantastic


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for reading!**

**Glossary can be found at the end of the chapter.**

Chapter 2

"Do you single handedly have to destroy this newspaper, Miss Swan?" Aro shrieked, throwing his hands into the air.

The noises coming out of my dotty editor-in-chief as he paced back and forth behind his desk reminded me of a flock of dirty seagulls. I held back a chuckle. Old Aro's balding head had wispy gray locks that were reminiscent of the graying feathers of those trash birds.

As the Big Cheese continued to wail at me, a memory of Charlie flooded my subconscious.

_La Push beach was hot that day. The sand, with its dizzying array of colors, tickled my toes. My father and I sat with our legs stretched out catching the unusual warmth that was descended upon the Pacific North West. I looked down at the blue smock dress I wore. It was speckled with little white flowers and a yellow ribbon weaved into the bottom. My heart filled with pride at that dress that my daddy purchased just for me, his favorite gal. Bliss was the pure emotion filling my six-year old soul that day._

_My father pulled out my favorite, ham and cheese on white, out of a wrinkled brown paper sack. I took a big bite and let the taste of it fill my small mouth. That's when the sound descended upon us, the shrieking horde of filthy fowl beating their wings coming from the sea towards our positions on the beach. The noises chortling out of their throats were homicidal screams that pierced my sensitive young ears. My father stood up and demanded with a gruff bark, "Sit still, Isabella."_

_Out of his holster, my father pulled out his police issued service revolver and swiftly took aim. Down went a large gull, its feathers floating into the sky like large pieces of snow. The rest of the bird's body hit the ground in large chunks of red. Its brethren flew off in a panic leaving their brother rotting on the sand to be given a burial by sea. A mouthful of sandwich plopped on to the sand, small bugs scampering upon it for a bite. My father looked at me and smiled gently. "Finish your lunch, child."_

_That was Charlie in a nutshell. He has always been a fiercely protective man that would do anything for his child. _

I shook my head to clear it of the memory. That loyal and wonderful man was now stuck working the chain gang in the state clink. There are too many hardened criminals in the joint to not have put a mark on my old man's back. Not to mention, I wouldn't put it past those rotten Blacks. I needed to get him out of there_. _I realized Aro was still prattling in his obnoxious whine.

"…it was such a coup to even get someone of his experience at this newspaper! Miss Swan, are you even listening to me?" Aro asked loudly, putting his hands on his skinny hips. I gave a start and looked at him with my eyes wide.

"Oh yeah, Chief," I said quickly. "Joe Lewis is a killer-diller boxer. I think he'll be the heavy weight champ again this year."

"I was talking about Mr. Cullen," Aro stated flatly as he plopped down in his hunter green cushioned chair. I looked at the stoic grandfather clock standing in the corner of the office. I had been stuck in here for thirty minutes! All I wanted to do was take a powder, but instead I'm stuck in Aro's den of decadence. That desk of his was worth a pretty penny. All carved oak; it filled up the room with its massive size. The desk was surprisingly empty on top, except for a vase of orange lilies and a picture of Aro's wife. Sera? Sara? I never really paid too much attention to her. She was a society staple. What was missing on his grand hunk of a workspace was actual work. Of course, most of the 'work' was being done under the desk. It was the perfect size to fit one bubble headed secretary under.

"Listen up, Boss. Cullen thinks he's the cat's meow, but between you and me, he is some fat head who just decided to grand stand to get this job. Trust me, I know how people are. My powers of perception are legendary." I lifted my legs and put them on top of his desk, ankles crossed.

"Get your dirty stompers off my desk, Miss Swan!" Aro sighed. I was wearing him down. "You are a great writer, but…"

"No buts, Chief. I am the best you got." I noticed Aro pull a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his desk. He took a stick at lit it up. "Going to offer a lady one of those?"

"Sure. Where's the lady?"

"Color me shocked! The Boss Man made a quip!" I smirked at him.

Aro tossed me his pack of smokes and a book of matches. He watched me with thoughtful eyes when I struck the match. "You liken yourself to Dorothy Parker, Miss Swan? Trying to give her a run for her money? It seems you and Jennings created your own Algonquin Round Table at McClaren's with that little wisp of a girl that follows you around."

"Why? You want in?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"I'll tell you a secret. Dorothy Parker has nothing on me. I'm much meaner." I gave him a wink.

Aro sighed, "Miss Swan. I needed you to at least pretend to have some decorum. Not for me, mind you, I respect a healthy questioning of authority. However, Marcus and Casp. . . Caius are both having some issues."

Those brothers were causing trouble again. They were two of the most ridiculous excuses for humanity that I ever laid eyes on. Aro was a gem in comparison. Marcus was the money man. He financed all of his brothers' whims of fancy. A morose man, who's slicked back dark hair and black suits, would make him look more comfortable embalming corpses in a mortuary than conversing with the living. We didn't see him often in the office, thank goodness, but when we did the mood of the busy newsroom turned sour.

Casper, excuse me, Caius was even worse. A flamboyant man, with a penchant for brightly colored scarfs, Casper decided to give himself a name fit for the theater. Which he had been unsuccessfully been trying to get a break into the scene for a decade. Casper was only cast once in a professional production, the chorus of _Rogers and Hammerstein's Oklahoma_. Rumor had it his singing voice was so horrible that alley cats caterwauled outside along with him outside of the theater. After that point the youngest Volturi couldn't catch a break. He had been turned down so many times from Broadway to Off-Broadway to regional community theater that he had convinced Marcus to fund his own theater company. Unfortunately for Casper, after discovering his personality, cast members dropped out like flies. That's why until he heads out to sunny California in the spring to try his hand in the motion pictures; I was subjected to his story ideas for the Society page.

"I want you to work here! I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't respect your god given talent. Help me out here, Miss Swan. My brothers want you to be a bit more demure. I will remain your biggest champion, but could you at least try to watch your tongue?"

A large part of me would love to be the one to take down Marcus and Casper. I would feel marginally bad for Aro, but the money that they possessed was suspicious. The company line was that they came from an Italian dynasty, but with a little digging you could easily find out that their true last name was Vincent. Waylon discovered this early on when the _Seattle Chronicles_ original owner, Mr. Masen sold the paper after the crash for a song. The question remained where did they get all that money? The Vincent family was an illiterate band of dirt farmers out of Oklahoma. Did they strike oil or something even more nefarious? The leads became cold after they reached Washington State.

I had bigger fish to fry with the Black family, but my inquiring mind craved the truth. If I didn't work for the _Chronicle_, but in the big leagues of our rival paper the _Seattle Times_, I might have a chance to dig a little deeper. To go there, I would be reacquainted with one of my biggest regrets, a Mr. Garrett Babcock. A crime reporter at the _Times_, my old beau used his onyx hair and sapphire eyes to coax the most intimate details out of witnesses.

The man was a legend, but I also knew that he could lead to despair. So I ran away from the impending heart break and his duplicity. Dear Alice was still trying to convince me to reconnect with the charmer. She repeatedly, to my dismay, that you can't let a dream like Garrett go. He had the flair, the pizazz and the rat-a-tat-tat that a girl like me needed. I informed her if she liked him so much she should date him. I left Alice in the dark for her protection and would continue to do so. For now, I would bury the Volturi story and my heart. I had to rescue my old man and bring my writing to the masses.

"…need to wear a dress. Miss Swan, do you ever pay attention to me?" Aro questioned with a frown.

"Sure. . . Dress. . . Wait a minute! Dress! What's the big idea, Chief?" I yelled. A dress! I hate dresses!

"You are covering the Hale Debutante Ball on Saturday. It's Miss Rosalie Hale's debut into polite society. My brothers and I will be there, of course. The Denali Family out of Alaska. The Blacks, for certain…" Aro began.

Horrors! I detest that self-important snob, Rosalie Hale. My mind would turn to mush from all the pretentious society fuddy duddies. I would have to sip feminine wine, instead of gulping a woodsy scotch. Of course, Billy and Jacob Black will be attending. I would be reporting all right, but not about that viper, Miss Hale.

"Sounds like a gas, Chief! I got to put a call in to my Girl Friday, Alice. Get one of those fancy frocks for the party." I stood up quickly and headed to the door, cigarette still hanging out of my lips.

"What? I'm surprised that. . ." Aro started to say, as I barreled out of his office. He quickly yelled behind me, "Apologize to Mr. Cullen, Miss Swan!"

I headed straight to my desk and did a slide to a stop. Edward Cullen, of the annoyingly pretty hair was still sitting in my chair. I looked at Waylon questioningly. Waylon smirked, "Told him to leave, kid. He seems to have not gotten enough of the Swan charm."

I rolled my eyes at Waylon and said to Cullen, "Planning on taking a load off all day? I need my chair."

Cullen patted his lap with a lewd smile. "Plenty of room here, doll."

"It looks a little damp there for this girl. You should take care of that. I wouldn't wish a cold on the precious Edward Cullen."

"Speaking of my wet pants, pretty lady, since you were the one to spill mud on it. . ." he began.

"Oh right. The Big Cheese told me to say sorry. Sorry?"

Cullen looked at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Did you say sorry in the form of a question?"

I shrugged, "I guess I did. Well because, between you and me, I'm not sorry."

"You will be making this right, Isabella. First you are going to clean these slacks for me and then you will be accompanying me to the party tonight."

"First, no I will not be putting my hands on your pants ever." Damn, he was a fresh drink of water on a hot summer's day. "Second, what party? You mean the office going to a bar? We do that every night. This isn't for you."

"You have a main squeeze, Miss Swan?"

"It's none of your questionable business, Mr. Cullen."

He got up and put a hand on my cheek, "It is most certainly my business, Sweetheart. I am going to go get a change of clothes out of my MG and then stare at your pretty face all night long. This isn't over, Miss Swan."

My mouth dropped open as he strolled towards the door and turned around to give me a wink. Waylon looked up from his Smith Corona. "Did that boy say he had a change of clothes in his car, Swan? What a dandy!"

"Huh?"

Waylon chuckled, "You already got it bad, Bella girl. This is going to be a hoot!"

**Your 1940's slang and important term dictionary terms**

State clink - Prison

Joint - Prison

Joe Lewis - 1940's Boxer

Killer-diller - Good stuff

Take a powder – Leave

Worth a pretty penny – Expensive

Cat's meow – Important

Fat head – stupid or foolish person

Grand stand – To show off

Stompers – Shoes

Lucky Strikes – Cigarette brand

Dorothy Parker – Famous 1920's – 1930's writer

_Rogers and Hammerstein's Oklahoma_ – Musical

For a song – Cheap

Dirt farmers – Farmers who work on non-fertile land

Fuddy duddies – Old fashioned person

A gas - A good time

My Girl Friday – A female helper

A load off - Relax

Mud – Coffee

Was a fresh drink of water on a hot summer's day – Attractive

A main squeeze – Significant other

MG – A type of sports car

Smith Corona – Type writer


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you for reading.**

Chapter 3

The rest of my work day crawled like a turtle. The hands of the dirty, white clock on the wall crawled towards the five o'clock closing time. It was those emerald green eyes staring at me from poor Yorkie's desk that made time stand still. Cullen kicked the awkward kid out of his seat and onto the hard, wooden floor in the corner of the office next to the filing cabinets. Yorkie sat there sorting piles of photos while impatient reporters whacked him on the skull opening and closing the drawers. I almost spoke up for the lad, but then I would have to speak to that fat head. This would have only made my situation with Cullen worse.

I sat at my desk with him looking at me like I was a root beer float picked up from the local lunch counter. He was just trying to make my life difficult. It was simple payback, true creep style. I tried to block him from view by placing last week's edition over my face. Unfortunately, I had opened it to Mrs. Cope's recipe page. I attempted not to vomit at her family recipe for Tongue and Cabbage Salad. It was greeby and made me glad I couldn't cook a lick. I left that up to Alice or the grizzled short order cook who made my greasy hamburgers at the local diner. I felt a finger tapping my shoulder. I growled, "What?"

"Miss Swan, what is it that has captured your attention for, at last count, thirty minutes?"

Cullen!

"Go away and grease your hedgehog hair, you trussed up hussy."

Cullen looked at me with a sarcastic frown, "You can't possibly mean that. You can barely keep your hands out of it."

I answered with a growl.

"Let me see what you've got here." He yanked the paper out of my hands, smearing the black ink onto my fingers. "Well, I'll be! Miss Swan, you are a chef? Isn't this a lovely development?"

"No! Spread Out!" I screeched like an alley cat.

"When are you making me dinner?" He asked with an arrogant smirk.

I leaned in closely, my nose almost touching his. I whispered, "When pigs fly, Mr. Cullen. Have you sprouted wings yet?"

"You'll be the first to know, Sweetheart," he said with a grin, blowing a stream of air into my lips. I pushed him back hard, as Waylon started laughing behind us. Edward continued, "What time are we leaving for the bar?"

"We aren't leaving together anywhere. I. . . I. . . I. . . I'm going with Waylon. The old timer's my date." I jerked a thumb back at the old man who started sputtering and coughing.

"Swan, what the hell are you going on about?" Waylon waddled over and swiftly punched me in the shoulder. "Fine, kid. I'm your sugar daddy. Nah, you can be mine. Top shelf whiskey on you, young'un."

"Whatever you say, you old drunk. Just stick it on my tab." I punched him back, and then glanced at Cullen who was wearing a strange expression on his face. It resembled a little bit like admiration.

XXXXXX

McClaren's was a dive. It's a seedy, little hole in the wall that's large, planked floors were littered with nut shells and dust. The tables were ancient artifacts that had seen better and sturdier days. On the walls, the only decorations were illustrations of Shebas that were ripped out of the pin-up magazines. The images should have offended my more feminine sensibilities, but I knew that I was in a male dominated environment and the only way to gain respect was to be one of the boys.

I loved that filthy dump, which others might scoff at, but McClaren's did one thing with panache. Liam, the bartender, made the strongest drinks around. The kind of hooch that when consumed, would curl your toes and grow hair on your chest. Only if Liam liked you, that is. He had a tendency to water down the bottles he served to new blood. He did, however, like me. This was the primary reason that as soon as the clock struck five o'clock, I pulled Waylon's wide girth out of his chair and barreled to the door. The secondary reason might have been, to be honest, was to escape Cullen. I was hoping to lose him as I weaved through the busy Seattle streets tugging the wheezing and complaining Waylon with me. Unfortunately, Cullen was latched onto us like a persistent blood sucking tick. Trust me; I tried to lose that preening dandy, even though Waylon refused to believe me. The old man thought I was interested in the creep. Obviously, dementia was setting in on old man Jennings.

When we arrived we were greeted by much exuberance from my closest friend, a Miss Alice Brandon. Stylishly dressed in a fitted blouse and a bright purple swing skirt, Alice would have stood out, even without her short Juliet hair do. Alice worked at Macy's dressing mannequins and was always on the forefront of women's fashion. Her body bounced up and down as if she had an electric current coursing through her veins. The little lady was excited, which common sense told me meant no good.

"Isabella Swan! Isabella Swan! You will not believe the news! It's a positively a humdinger!" Alice embraced me in one of her infamous hugs. It was the type of embrace that would knock a person over on impact. She then launched herself at Waylon. "Mr. Jennings! You are a sight for sore eyes! How lovely to see you this fine evening! We are going to have such a grand time. Why are you still wearing that ratty fedora? That is so 1935!"

Jennings took Alice by the shoulders and set her back on to the pavement. "Simmer down, Small Fry. I'm an old man. You might give me a heart attack."

"Aww, Mr. Jennings. You are the strongest man I know, age regardless," Alice said with a flirtatious smile. That girl would flirt with a paper bag, if it gave her the time of day.

I noticed Waylon give a very awkward blush. I muttered, "Ridiculous old coot."

"Bella Swan, you need to learn to respect your elders! Waylon, I apologize for this rude, young lady. I am trying to teach her manners, but obviously failing miserably."

"Come on now, Al…" I began.

Waylon chuckled, "Getting Swan here to act like a dame is like teaching an old junk yard dog a new trick."

"Absolutely! But I'll tell you a secret, I wouldn't have her any other way," " Alice stated with her trademark grin. Then she raised her eyebrows, as she noticed Cullen standing behind me. Uncomfortably close, behind me. "Well, well, well, Bella! Who's this dish you've been keeping from your best friend?"

"What dish?" I asked looking around me. "I don't see any plates, bowls or cups around here. However, if we finally make it inside this fine establishment, there might be some other nice table settings that would pique your interest."

"Ha. Ha." Alice gave me a little smile. She then thrust her body between me and Cullen, holding out her delicate hand; red nails mocking my ink stained ones. "I am actually talking about the handsome man standing right here. I am Alice Marie Brandon and it's a pleasure to meet you."

"I am enchanted to meet you, Miss Brandon. I am Edward Cullen of the Chicago Cullens." He kissed the back of her hand swiftly. I made an entirely unfeminine snort. Cullen gave me a look. "Any friend of the charming Miss Swan is a friend of mine."

What a wise guy! I put my arm around Alice's shoulders. "Listen up, Alice. Cullen is not someone we will be wasting our time on. Just ignore him and hopefully he'll go away. I've been trying to lose him the whole day. Unfortunately, he's sticking to me like a fly on flypaper. I positively can't shake him."

"Be nice to the attractive man, Bella. It's like you were raised in a barn." Alice gave me a quick jab in my side. "I think you need to get ready to be entranced by some smooth jazz!"

"You're planning on dragging me somewhere to listen to obnoxious noise? Where?" Waylon huffed.

"Why here!" Alice exclaimed with a bounce.

I looked at Alice. "What are you talking about bringing music into a joint like this? McClaren's isn't some dance hall where all the Active duties and Share croppers cut a rug! McClaren's is a bona fide gin mill and needs to stay that way!"

Alice grabbed my arm and pulled me with a forceful tug that propelled me into the dark and smoke filled bar. For someone so small, Alice had the strength of a prize fighter. "Listen up, Bells! Dougherty's added a house band and it's filling up! Garrett's been hanging out there, so. . ."

"Are you joking with me? You did this to lure Garrett into being here with me? I am livid with you! Maybe a little impressed by your duplicity, Alice, but still wholeheartedly livid!"

"I am also helping Laurent out," Alice said flashing her puppy eyes at me. She had a soft spot for Laurent Washington. They had become friends two summers ago in sunny California while they were both attempting to become stars on the silver screen. Unfortunately, for the both of them, Laurent was given bit parts as wait staff that were designated for Colored actors and Alice was a perennial chorus girl. When they headed back North towards Washington State, Alice found her job at Macy's and Laurent started the first of several bands. He was quite efficient at playing the skins, but even better at showmanship.

"Alice! Laurent can find his own gigs. You need to back off with all this Garrett nonsense." I put my hands on my hips in frustration.

Cullen placed his warm hands on my shoulders and began to caress them gently. The pressure of which made my knees shake slightly as he whispered into my ear, "Relax, Angel. Who's this Garrett?"

I pulled away quickly from the electricity coursing through my veins. "What is with all the angels and the touching? You know what you need is a swift kick in the a. . ."

"Easy, Swan!" Waylon pulled me away from the violent act that I was about to perform on Cullen. "Young Yorkie saved us a table."

That he did. Eric Yorkie was standing and waving a tumbler of clear liquid in the air and loudly calling out, "Miss Swan! Mr. Jennings! C'mere! Sit with me! Hey is that the new guy with you? You're an ass, new guy! I had to sit on the floor today! People were stepping on me! "

"Yorkie, how much have you had to drink tonight?" I said plopping down in a seat across from him at the rickety, round table covered by rings of liquid and sticky substances of indeterminate origin. Of course, Cullen had to find the seat that was directly next to mine. He obviously had issues with personal boundaries.

"Aww gee, Miss Swan. I'm just dandy with this fine vintage of. . . I'm not sure what exactly." Eric squinted at Alice. "Who are you, pretty lady? Want to sit here?"

Eric started pounding on his knee and motioning to Alice. Her mouth flew open and eyes grew wide. "Eric, it's me Alice! Have you ingested any nefarious substances? Bella, I fear he has plumed lost his ever loving mind."

"Ali, he's just drunk as a skunk," I replied.

"Nah…I'm good. You know, I was thinking about our secret assignment. . ." He began in a loud whisper.

"Hush!" I clapped a hand over his loose lips.

"What secret assignment, Doll?" Cullen questioned scooting over closer, his knee brushing against mine.

I chose to ignore him. "Hey Liam, where's the hooch?"

Liam looked up from the drinks he was pouring at the long bar. "I hear ye, lass! The whiskey is coming right up! Hold on to your knickers!"

Eric started bouncing in his seat. "Another one of these, mister!"

"Liam, for the love God, bring the boy his usual!" Waylon yelled out.

Eric Yorkie's usual was a tall, icy cool glass of Seattle's finest whole milk.

"Not a problem, Waylon." Liam lumbered over with a tray full of various drinks. "I gave the lad a half and half. I can't believe he is this liquored up! He better damn well not upchuck on my floor."

I wasn't very surprised that Liam had watered down Eric's drink. Calling Eric's gin a half and half was undoubtedly being generous. He was notorious with filling up almost empty bottles with water and then charging double for a premium drink. The cheap Irishman liked to keep the strong stuff for his favorite patrons. The most notable favorite of Liam's being me. The poor suckers he didn't like got the watered down hooch. Liam McClaren was a man that knew how to work an angle to his advantage.

The group started to grab assorted drinks from the tray, as Cullen spoke up, "Pardon me, good man. I was actually hoping to order a Gibson from you."

"You work for the _Chronicle_?" Liam inquired.

"I do, sir."

"Then lad, I suggest you shut your mouth and grab a whiskey. You are working with real men now and with Swan." Liam shoved the tumbler of whiskey in Cullen's face as Waylon let out a large laugh.

"Hey!" Alice yelled, as she took a swig of her drink. "This is just orange juice! It's an Orange Blossom without the gin!"

"You'll be getting your hooch back, wee Alice, when you stop convincing my Siobhan into helping you with your crazy schemes."

"I can't possibly know what you are referring to," Alice said with a huff.

"That band of coloreds…" Liam started to say.

"Oh don't you be mean about those boys! As an Irishman, you should be sympathetic of the plight of others since both the Irish and Negros are both treated as secondary citizens. This is the good old U. S of A, where every man and women should be treated as equals, no matter their nationality or race! Furthermore. . ." Alice began on her tirade. She could make a scene, but I was proud of her for standing up for those being treated badly around her. Alice Brandon was truly a good lady.

"Calm down, lassie! I wasn't going to say anything about those men. I just don't want my bar to be filled up a bunch of hoofers that won't pay for drinks."

"Siobhan agrees with me that it is good for business. She would also agree that you need to be adding some gin to my lonely orange juice." Alice said holding her glass out to the large Irishman.

"Fine, wee girlie. Only because I am fond of ye and you remind me of that girl, Pollyanna in the book my sweet Maggie be reading." Liam grinned. His young daughter, Maggie was in love with Alice and would liken her to any heroine in the books she was reading. "Luckily for you, the white boy is keeping the colored boy in the tux in check. I swear on me auld mother's grave I have a bad feeling about The Whitlock Trio playing here!"

In unison, both Alice and Cullen exclaimed, "The Whitlock Trio?"

I looked at Cullen and asked, "You know about the band?"

"Unfortunately, I know Jas. . . My. . ." He began and grimaced. "I know Jasper Whitlock."

"Then what's the big deal? Is he into evil plots with nefarious individuals?"

"No. I really don't feel like speaking about it, Miss Swan." Cullen hunkered down in his seat with a frown. Then he attempted to change the subject. "I don't understand the issue with having live music."

Waylon chimed in, "Son, you're still a relative youngster around here compared to a mature gentleman like myself, so let me explain. This establishment is a bastion for serious journalism. The old guard comes here to reflect on how our quest for truth must be defended from the corruption that plagues these city streets. If you play your cards right, you can join Swan in becoming the next generation."

"We are being groomed to become old goats," I added with a snort.

"Quiet, Girl. I am getting a preemptive headache from the upcoming wailing about to penetrate my poor ears. Thanks all to you, Little Brandon."

But Little Brandon was having her own conversation with herself, because a furious Alice tended to verbalize her inner thoughts out loud. "Who is this Whitlock fellow? Laurent didn't say anything? Tyler is up there, so did they replace Peter? Why in heavens would they do that? Did they find another sax player?"

"Breathe Ali…" I began to say, but Alice kept talking.

"I really do not appreciate being out of the loop after helping them! Why did they change the name? I liked the name, Washington Hep Cats! It worked, because we're in Washington and its Laurent's last name! I came up with it myself!" Alice's face was beet red and she was flailing her hands, but as soon as she looked up to the make shift stage she froze. Her bright, cornflower blue eyes widened and her ruby lips parted with a sigh. Oh no!

Alice Brandon, who never saw a man that was resistant to her charms, was smitten. At first I didn't notice the newest and palest member of Laurent's musical lineup. I was too busy giving Tyler a quick wave. He smiled and pushed his coke bottle spectacles back up his nose, his small frame being engulfed by Laurent's hand me down Zoot suit. Tyler was a shy and kind man who when playing his guitar summoned the ghosts of old blues men and created musical masterpieces. He was fumbling with the strings of his guitar when Whitlock approached. I could see why Alice was instantly enamored by the sight of him. His wavy blond hair seemed to have been kissed by the sun and his face chiseled into perfection by Grecian sculptors. A lazy smile graced his face as he leaned towards Tyler and whispered in his ear. Whitlock stood straight, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, while his shirt and crimson suspenders clung to his well-defined muscles. He was holding a clarinet.

"Oh my heavens! He plays a licorice stick!" Alice squealed. Whitlock must have heard her loud announcement, because he looked at her and winked an emerald eye. Alice swooned, and to be honest, I felt a bit weak kneed myself. I heard a loud groan and looked over at the other handsome emerald eyed man in the room rolling his eyes. Interesting.

I was about to ask Cullen what had put him into such a sour mood, when I felt a sweaty palm caress my neck and whisper with putrid breath into my ear, "The band will be starting soon, Isabella. Care to cut a rug with me?"

The foul and slimy Michael Newton!

"I do not care to Jitterbug, Lindy Hop, Charleston or even East Coast Swing with you! I suggest you get your clammy paws off my neck before I remove them for you! Trust me when I say it won't be pleasant." I scowled at him.

"You know you don't mean that, Sweet Thing. I can make you feel things on that dance floor that will make your body purr." Newton then proceeded to begin to make a dying cat noise.

"Go away!" I threatened him with a spoon.

Cullen grabbed Newton's arm. "The lady asked for you to remove yourself from her vicinity. If you need assistance, I will be more than happy to escort you off the premises."

I was trying hard not feel something that was eerily like attraction for Edward Cullen at that moment. Luckily, my favorite large, booming voice distracted me from those unwanted warm and fuzzy feelings. "Don't worry about it, mister. The law is here to remove any riff raff trying to mess with my ducky here." Officer Emmett McCarthy was on the case. It should be called, The Case of Flirting with the Reluctant Swan. He stroked my hair with a loving smile. "Hi de Ho, Ducky. Is this creep bothering you again?"

"Emmett, I can handle it," I answered, trying to scowl at him. It was almost impossible to be angry with his over protective nature. A tall and muscular man with close cropped brown hair, whose police officer uniform made him look equal parts dashing and imposing, Officer McCarty couldn't hide the sparkle in his chocolate eyes and the deep ruby blush that pooled to his cheeks when I graced him with a smile. To say such a vision of masculinity was adorable was just appropriate in reference to Emmett.

Newton quickly jumped away from the table. He had run-ins with Emmett before. "No, Officer Sir! I'm leaving!"

"I see you make a lasting impression on Newton." I reached up and squeezed Emmett's hand. There was that blush again. Cullen scowled at my hand in Emmett's. "Are you off duty, Officer? Care for a strong drink?"

"Don't mind if I do! I just wanted to spend some time with my favorite duck." Emmett held out a hand to Edward. "Officer Emmett McCarty. Thanks for watching out for my favorite dame!"

Cullen took Emmett's large hand to shake it and grimaced. Emmett had a very strong grip. "Edward Cullen. It's nice to meet you. You're Miss Swan's beau?"

"I wish. Ducky won't give me the time of day. I'm wearing her down though. She might even grace me with a date in a year or two. It's a slow process getting this one to break down that wall she's built up."

Cullen started to grin. "I think that wall can be scaled. I might be the man to do it, however."

The two men started a staring match with determined expressions. Children, the both of them!

"Pardon me, I'm sitting right here. Trust me when I say that you two will not barreling through these walls. I might have to add some more inches." I took a swig of my drink.

"You'll have to lower it sometime, Doll Face." Cullen squeezed my knee and I stomped on his foot. Cullen made a face and took a gulp of the Scotch in front of him. "So Officer McCarty, why do you call Miss Swan 'Ducky'? "

"Like the Ugly Duckling." Emmett grinned.

"How dare you! I would never call her that! Miss Swan is a very attractive woman!" Edward exclaimed looking angry. These men around me were doll dizzy and obviously not very particular about the doll.

"I know that and I can tell that you know that. This little lady cannot. She's the one we need to convince of her beauty. Plus, she likes it when I tease her. She might complain, but her cheeks get all red. It's cute."

"I am still sitting right here, you two pains."

Emmett ignored me. "Edward. Can I call you Edward? I can see we are going to be great chums."

"Doubt it," Edward muttered.

"Listen, I can see you are fond of Ducky, too. It will be better if we're friends."

Edward gave him a look. "Stop calling her 'Duck'."

Edward just couldn't understand how special that nickname was to me. Emmett had always been fond of me and had bestowed my nickname at our very first meeting.

_The Policemen's Ball was the event of the season for all the local police departments of Washington State. As the Police Chief of Forks, my father was always invited to attend by the major brass at the state level. He would put on his dress uniform with pride, with shoes and buttons polished, his shirt crisply pressed. Charlie was in his element with others of his chosen profession._

_That year, my father asked me to be his date. I was hesitant, but was happy to see the pride in his eyes as I walked into that ballroom wearing a violet gown that Alice had designed especially for me. I wasn't used to being so dressed to the nines, but I was thrilled to see the interactions between this group of men in blue. I was trying to figure out every man's link to one another, when I felt a hand hesitantly touch my shoulder._

_"Excuse me, Miss. My name is Officer Emmett McCarty. I hope it wouldn't be too forward to ask you to accompany me on the dance floor?" The attractive dark haired man smiled nervously._

_"That's a very kind of you, Officer McCarty. Thank you, but I don't dance."_

_"That's a shame, Miss. How about I get you a drink and perhaps your name?" Officer McCarty asked._

_I looked around for my father. When I finally found him, he was sitting near a bar laughing loudly with his colleagues. "I suppose you can get me a Pink Lady."_

_"Your name would be most welcome, please?"_

_"Oh! Isabella Swan," I said with a blush._

_"I'll call you Ducky, then." He gave a huge grin._

_"Why?"_

_"It's after the character in The Ugly Duckling, of course!"_

_I frowned at him, "That isn't very kind. I'll be leaving, Sir."_

_"Wait a minute!" Emmett took my arm gently. "Swans never realize their true beauty and I have a feeling that you haven't yet, either."_

From that moment on Emmett McCarty became a true friend and confidant. I was always on the cusp of falling madly in love with him, but I could never fall off the edge. Looking between Emmett and Edward, I felt more confused than ever.

I looked at Alice as the band began to play, her eyes glazed over as she stared at Jasper Whitlock's lips caressing his clarinet. It was so easy for her to allow herself to dive into the uncharted waters of romance. My attraction to these men had to be put on the back burner until I could get my father back to his rightful place. I looked over to Yorkie swaying to the music in a jerky fashion. Tomorrow, I would be dragging him with me to start my quest for justice. Hopefully, we will come out unscathed at the other end.

**Your 1940's slang and important term dictionary terms**

Active duty – Sexually promiscuous boy

Auld - Irish dialect for old

The Charleston - Although associated with the 1920's, there were partnered variations that were done along with the jitterbug.

Colored - Colored is a term once widely used in the United States to describe black people and Native Americans

Cut a rug – Dance

Doll - woman

Doll dizzy – Girl crazy

East Coast Swing - Was developed by Ballroom Associations by making a standard 6 count dance out of a foxtrot basic and lindy hop inspired footwork. This dance is most commonly associated with "jitterbug" whether it be single or triple step basic.

**Recipe for the Gibson -**

**half measure dry white vermouth**

**2.5 measures gin**

**2 cocktail onions**

**Pour vermouth and gin into a glass with ice, stir and let chill for 30 seconds. Skewer onions on a cocktail stick and place in a cocktail (Martini) glass so onions rest at the bottom. Strain vermouth/gin into the glass.**

Gin Mill - An establishment where hard liquor is sold; bar

Greeby – Revolting

Hep cat/kitten or cool cat/kitten - Hip person

Hi-de-ho - Hello

Hoofers - Dancers

Humdinger - A remarkable or outstanding person or thing

Jitterbug - Isn't an actual dance. A jitterbug is actually a dancer. The term originally comes from Cab Calloway's song "Call of the Jitterbug" and movie short "Cab Calloway's Jitterbug Party" from 1935.

Juliet - Women's hairstyle in which the crown is smooth and the hair is curled into a fluff just below the ears. It was based on Norma Shearer's hairstyle in the movie Juliet.

Knickers - Pants

Licorice stick - Clarinet

Lindy Hop - Is the father of all swing dances and came out of Harlem in the late 1920's out of breakaway partner Charleston. The name comes from Charles Lindbergh who "hopped the Atlantic" in 1927.

Macy's- Department Store founded in 1858

Recipe for the Orange Blossom –

Equal parts gin and fresh squeezed orange juice,

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail (Martini) glass

**Recipe for the Pink Lady-**

**1.5 measures Plymouth gin (as opposed to the more common London Dry gin)**

**Half measure grenadine**

**Half measure heavy cream**

**Quarter measure lemon juice**

**1 measure egg white**

**Dip the rim of a champagne saucer in grenadine and then in caster sugar to make a pink rim. Shake the ingredients with ice and strain into the glass, add a cherry garnish.**

Pollyanna - Book written by Eleanor H. Porter in 1913

Share crop – sexually promiscuous girl

Sheba - A woman with sex appeal (from the move Queen of Sheba) or (e.g. Clara Bow).

Skins - Drums

Spread Out - Get out of the way! Give me some room! Stop crowding me!

Swing Skirt - a full, round cut, or flared skirt that was designed to "swing out" when jitterbugging. Often worn with the sloppy joe sweater. Mid-late 1940's.

Upchuck - To vomit when one has drunk too much

Wise guy- A smart ass


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you for reading.**

Chapter 4

The lobby of Olympic Hotel stood in front of us in all its majestic grandeur, mocking us with pretentious crystal chandeliers, oak paneling and oriental rugs woven with strands of gold that cost more than my yearly salary. Alice let out a gasp, her little head bobbing up and down taking in the sights before. Yorkie kept muttering, "Jeepers."

My companions and I stood out like sore thumbs in an establishment such as this. Square pegs trying to cram into a round hole. The location of Miss Rosalie Hale's debutante ball was going to be teeming with the who's who of Washington State. We would be rubbing elbows with movers and shakers that controlled this town, by legal and illegal pursuits that gave them the capital to lord over all of us little people. I smoothed down my lilac dress in frustration. Just the thought being near this crowd was making me nauseous with the knowledge that I would be a witness to their vanity.

Alice grabbed my hands tightly. "You look lovely. Don't be nervous."

"Al, I don't give a hoot about how I look! Witnessing these fat cats and their decadence is making me ill. It was nice of you to get me dolled up. You're a real pal!" I gave a little smile, which Alice returned, temporarily blinding me with its intensity. Alice, the miracle worker, had saved me from wearing an ill-fitting women's suit that I had last worn to my interview at the _Chronicle_. Instead I was decked out like a dame in a snug purple dress and feeling scandalized that only one of my shoulders was covered with a thin piece of lace that wrapped itself along my waist in an embrace. The bodice pushed my cleavage out making me wish I had brought my old cream fisherman's sweater to cover myself, its scratchy wool making a barrier from leering eyes. My hair had been pinned up into loose curls and my face was painted on like a share crop. Although grateful to my friend for enhancing my appearance, creating the facade of confidence, I absolutely felt like a no good floozy. The thought keeping me from hiding behind a pillar was the fact that by decking me out in these duds, I would have a better chance of uncovering Billy Black's underhanded dealings with the crème de la crème of high society.

Alice fit in like a glove, in these situations, with her bravery outstanding. She wore a strapless dress, its color resembling the sunflowers that filled the meadow next to my yard growing up with tiny rays of sunshine. The design of faint shimmery swirls danced among the bodice and floated into airy skirt that landed demurely mid-calf. Yesterday, I interrupted her work at Macy's begging for her to nick a dress for me at the store. When she returned home that afternoon, empty handed, I felt elated. I felt safe in my armor, those manly clothes left to me by my dear Seth, I just couldn't function dressed up to the nine's. My joy dissipated quickly. Alice brought out of her bedroom the infamous dresses that now enveloped our bodies. They were designed by the one and only, Alice Brandon and sewn with love on her Singer Sewing Machine.

I had not known at the time, but Alice had already received an invitation to the infamous Debutante Ball by Miss Rosalie Hale herself. Alice was not going to attend until she found I would be covering the event. This had worried me, because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Miss Rosalie Hale was a snake of epic proportions. When Alice was but a wee girl, her mother Mary was employed by the Hale Family as their Head Housekeeper. When it was discovered that Mary Brandon had a daughter Rosalie's age, the Hales made sure that the young and sweet Alice became Rosalie's playmate and victim.

It did not surprise me a bit when Alice told tales of Rosalie's duplicitous and sadistic manner of play. Rosalie lit one of Alice's dolls on fire and snuck dirt into Alice's oatmeal to name some of her offenses. It was a daily occurrence in Al's childhood that made me angry with that monstrous female, Miss Hale. The day Alice told me that Rosalie had stolen the bracelet that Alice's father had given her before he passed away in Germany during the First World War and smashed it with a rock was the last straw for me. I had vowed that day to protect Alice from any more of Rosalie's treachery. Alice, as usual the image of virtue, had forgiven the harpy and claimed that sadness had made Rosalie vicious. If you believe that one, there's a bridge in California I would love to sell you.

_We had the dresses spread out on Al's duvet. I was looking at them with a frown. "Al, are you sure you want to go to this shindig?"_

_"I truly believe Rose asked me with sincerity! I was standing at the counter rearranging the gloves by type and color again. The managers are always incorrect at which way it looks best. You should NEVER stick chinchilla lined chocolate leather next to an iceberg white evening glove. It looks tacky and turns off prospective customers. If I said it once, I said it a thousand times to Mr. Grant. . . _

_Oh sorry! Anyway, in strolls Rosie looking like the bees knees. Her scarlet coat cost a pretty penny, I tell you! She comes right up to me at the counter and says to me, 'Alice, why you actually look somewhat attractive today.'_

_Get that look off your face, Bella Swan. I do believe she meant it as a compliment. Rosie then says to me, in all seriousness, 'Alice, I have known you a long time. My debutante ball is on Saturday at the Olympic at seven sharp. You should come. I think that boy you live with is doing a story about it for The Chronicle.'_

_That was nice of her, don't you think? Hey, do you think she thinks you're a boy? I mean you are the only roommate I have. Gee Wilkers! Rose sure gets confused!"_

I doubted in all sincerity that Rosalie Hale was confused about my gender. She was a witch, pure and simple, and the fact that I had to kiss up to her in the written word made my stomach turn. I turned to Yorkie who was busy cranking out pictures of the lobby. His newsboy cap with his Press identification card sticking out was perched on his head slightly askew, his shirt was freshly ironed and tucked neatly into his tan pants that had a dark stain that crept from his front pocket. This made his attempt at looking dignified a lost cause. "Yorkie, you're wasting film on the overindulgent lobby. Let's meander into the, I'm positive, overindulgent ballroom. Your camera's lense will be blinded by the sheer overabundance of smugness and superiority that will be flowing out of those people."

"Gee Miss Swan; I was only hoping to get some shots of famous people entering the event." Yorkie pushed his thin wire framed glasses onto his face. Even though I believed this to be a new pair of glasses, their bridge of was already wrapped thickly with white medical tape.

Alice gently said, "Eric, this isn't tinsel town. I have a feeling that Greta Garbo or Bette Davis won't be joining the Hale's in celebrating Rose. Do you think that they might have gotten at least one famous person, Bella? Wouldn't it be grand if they got Clark Gable? That would be the end all, I tell you!"

"They did no such thing, Alice. It will be the same fat cats that attend any self-important society event in this state. They will booze and act like the authorities on droll subjects and make me want to run out of the room screaming. Let's just hope the liquor is free flowing and the Blacks lose any filter they have on their mouths. I need more than rumors to get Charlie out of the big house." I grabbed Alice by the elbow and stomped over to main ballroom to begin this nightmare with Yorkie quickly jogging behind.

XXXXXX

"Oh my! It's so pretty in here! Don't you think it looks like a fairy land, Bella?" Alice asked, her eyes shining at all the candles flickering on gold brocade tablecloths and gigantic arrangements of pastel roses in glass vases.

"It looks like an attempt at gentrification of new money and a large mess of blooms that are at any moment going to make me sneeze," I said, my nose wiggling in anticipation of the upcoming nasal event.

She frowned at me. "Where is your eye for romance and beauty, Isabella Swan? You have become jaded, my dear friend."

"I've been jaded. You've been watching my descent into a curmudgeon existence for years now. Thanks, my good man!" I exclaimed to a waiter as I quickly grabbed a flute of champagne on a waiter's ornate silver tray. I took a large swig and grimaced. "This stuff is horrible! It is beyond me why the rich want to waste a pretty penny on this swill."

"I find it divine," Alice trilled after taking a lady like sip.

"You would. Yorkie! Drop the bubbly hooch and get to the picture taking!" I grabbed the offending yellow liquid and gave it to an eager Alice. Yorkie made a sad face, but it did not deter me. "Look here, kid, I need you to have a clear head tonight. There are certain things that need to be done to complete the first stop of our mission. Just imagine it. . . We are the allied forces taking down the SS. Those good for nothing Nazi's can't take us down! Over there is our target!"

I grabbed Yorkie to angle him towards the doorway to the ballroom, where the Family Black was entering. Decked out in top hats and tails, the men tried to mask the dubious nature of their business dealing with an air of respectability. Jacob Black, looking out of place in his monkey suit, pushed his father into the room. Billy, or should I now say William, smiled largely taking in the grandeur around him. That wheelchair helped him get his foot in the door with these titans of industry. They had assumed he was a war hero that was injured by German forces during the First World War. Little did they know, it was a knife wound delivered by a thug over a crooked deal gone wrong. Billy had created an illusion and it was my hope that I could topple him from his perch.

Behind the Blacks and a large group of their associates, a hodge podge of men notorious for their brutality from the time that they were young, stepped out my ex-stepmother, Sue Clearwater. Wearing a costume of shiny green and thick grey fox furs, she was leaps and bounds from the women who wore a brightly colored floral apron and would snuggle Seth and I to her bosom when we awoke frightened from thunderstorms. Sue eyes searched the room until they latched onto mine and her lips curled into a small smile. Was it an attempt of forgiveness or a look of disdain? I couldn't read her anymore, because the woman that I had called mother had disappeared and turned into a shadow of her former loving self. Her daughter, Leah followed wearing a similar dress of excess as her mother and a look of smug haughtiness. Leah was always the bane to Seth and my existence. I was not surprised to see that her disposition had not improved with age.

I glanced over to Alice and whispered, "It appears that the entire assembly no good elements of Forks have joined us tonight. Do you think you could. . ."

Alice grabbed my hand. "Just look at me. You need to stay calm."

"What?" I asked not heeding Alice's advice. I immediately regretted it, because there was my actual mother. Not only did I need to be reminded of the betrayal of Sue, but here was the destroyer of my childhood dreams. Renee Swan Dwyer had snaked her way over to Billy Black and stooped over to whisper into his ear. Her body was inappropriately dressed in clinging onyx silk, her cleavage making an appearance in Billy's sight line and her jewels glimmering off her body.

My step-father looked around with a bored air, ignoring my mother's lack of decorum. Phil, wearing almost as many bedazzled jewels as Renee, was a mid-level thug in Billy's organization. Obviously, he had no qualms with his wife throwing herself at the Boss Man like a two bit floozy in order to score points. I had no doubt that my no good mother and her husband had a hand in Charlie's fall from grace. No whistle dixie about it at all. My only problem was to squash my hurt inner child and be able to get the truth out Renee. A part of me yearned to feel a mother's love from the brazen harlot, but what kind of woman would run out on her five year-old daughter to shack up with a criminal like Dwyer? Not the type of mother that I needed in my life.

"Eric, take more pictures. Anything that seems odd needs to be captured. Bella needs something to eat. She appears to be wilting out of hunger," Alice quickly gave Yorkie his orders. She led me away from the loins that sprung me into this cruel world. I admit that I was leaning towards the dramatic this night. Honestly, most nights. Alice interrupted me out of my inner lament, "Stop staring at her, Bella. She'll be over her in two shakes of a tail feather if she notices you. You aren't ready to deal with her. There are other players in this messed up game. You've told me yourself that once Billy's house of cards tumbles, they'll all fall down. Keep that in mind and it will all go fine. I promise!"

I looked at my dear friend with gratitude. "How did you become so wise?"

"We've been friends for a very long time. Some of you attributes had to rub off on me! At least it wasn't your horrendous fashion sense."

I grinned at her as we grazed the buffet table. We loaded out china plates with canapés of smoke salmon, caviar sandwiches, cheese puffs and other assorted finger foods when I felt someone breathe into my ear. It was followed by a whisper, "Miss Swan, you look enchanting."

I whirled around to face the handsome face of Mr. Edward Cullen. I tried to force the blush I felt coloring my cheeks to disappear as I took in his tuxedo that made him look like a dashing hero out of a moving picture show. His tousled hair made him look boyish, yet impossibly attractive. How I hated him! As Cullen grabbed a mushroom toast off my plate and tossed into his perfectly shaped lips. I sighed. Oh no! I needed to cover! "What are you doing here, Cullen?"

"I'm complimenting the loveliest woman here." He gave me that dazzling smile. I blushed then cringed. Alice starred at us like she was watching a tennis match. "You look lovely too, Alice. It's a pleasure to see you."

"Thanks," Alice squeaked.

I let out an indignant snort. Kill me now. "Save the smooth talk, Cullen. Are you trying to squeeze me out of my story?"

"Your special interest piece for the paper about the vapid Miss Hale and the celebration she's throwing for herself?" He asked with an eye roll. "Have you decided to use your pretty brown eyes on landing a bigger scoop, Miss Swan? Would that be what you think I might want to squeeze?"

"No," I lied, ignoring his eyes raking over my body. "I just thought you might have an urge to dig deeper into the devoid of humanity lifestyle of an overly endowed happiness sucking vampire, such as our dear Miss Hale."

"You're understandably not a fan of hers. Not many are. Actually, I have more pressing interest in a beautiful, but frighteningly snarky brunette."

"I'll keep my eye out for her, but I hear those types bite," I scoffed, as Alice let out a laugh.

Cullen smiled and stroked my cheek as I flinched. "One can only hope."

The magnificent Alice jumped in and asked, "Why are you here, Mr. Cullen?"

"My parents requested my attendance. My father is head of surgery at Seattle Community Hospital."

"Of course, he is," I snarled. I glanced over at the attractive couple that Cullen looked over to.

Doctor Cullen, a handsome man with the palest blond hair that I had ever come across, stroked his wife's arm affectionately. Mrs. Cullen, her chestnut tresses pulled into a chignon, smiled up at her dashing husband. She was the picture of elegance in an autumn brown, chiffon gown. Edward resembled neither of the two. What struck me even more curious was that Jasper Whitlock stood there having an intimate conversation with the couple. Mr. Whitlock, unlike the other night at the bar, was dressed like most of the men in attendance with his blond curls slicked back to a more manageable state. I looked at Alice who looked at Jasper in a state of shock. It was very curious indeed. Let's get to the bottom of this mystery!

"Well ladies…" Edward began.

"Off you go to mommy and daddy, Cullen. Some of us have jobs to do."

"I will be catching up to you later for a dance." He smiled and grabbed my hand.

I pulled my hand away. "Fantastic. Oh wait! I'll be running away in the other direction, so good luck with that."

I led Alice away in the direction of some tables. I whispered to her, "Did you know Jasper was attending?"

"No. I don't understand! He's a musician from Texas. He has that dreamy accent! How does he know Edward Cullen's parents?" Alice looked at me with a perplexed expression, as we turned to gaze at the object of her affection with my Edward, I mean Cullen, and his parents. Cullen looked over and took in Alice's sad face and frowned. Jasper turned to where Cullen was looking and his mouth dropped.

"Wow Al, Whitlock's mouth is open so wide he can catch flies. I have a strange suspicion that our dear licorice stick player has been keeping something from you." I glared at that no good musician and laid my hand on my friend's shoulder. "I am going to extend the same advice you gave me earlier. You need to keep a stiff upper lip. Let's keep our eye on the prize. We're helping Charlie. The truth about Cowboy Curls will come out soon enough."

"Why do I have a feeling we would have been better off going to the cinema and take in the new Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland film. Singing, dancing and happy endings would be a far better bet than feeling confused. Do you think he's no good?" Alice questioned with a forlorn expression on her red lips.

"Another Andy Hardy flick? They drive me bonkers! Dealing with all these bad eggs would be a step up."

"I love Mickey Rooney, Bella! Be nice." Alice wiped away a stray tear that was able to escape her big, blue orbs. "Anyway, I don't know the whole story with Jasper. It's silly getting all khaki wacky and teary eyed. We need to get back to finding the goods on these goons. Charlie is the important thing."

I smiled at her and stood up. "I am going to try to catch some tidbits of who's in cahoots with whom. Want me to send the kid over to sit with you?"

"Nah. I'll just meander over there, far away from Jasper. He's too much of a distraction right now. I'll try to get some additional leads. Hopefully, Eric will get some photos that can tie things together."

"We can only hope. We'll meet back here in twenty."

Alice and I split into our separate ways and wandered through the crowd of silks, jewels and furs. It was a tedious exercise in patience listening to conversations that were lacking in any stimulating information. These people were only concerned with their influential bubble of fashion, money and the quest to become America's royalty. Did these fat heads even care that our boys were off fighting in a war against a foe that had no qualms in decimating a whole society of people? It made me sick that Seth was overseas doing his patriotic duty and being brave in the trenches, while his mother and sister were flaunting their new found wealth. I had become so upset at this thought I did not look as I spun around and smacked right into a thick, muscular chest. I looked up into the deep, sympathetic eyes of Jacob Black as a memory flooded into my consciousness.

_It was a normally dreary day in Forks, as I swung on the porch swing. My skinny thirteen year old legs pumped up and down trying to lift me up into the dark clouds. A deep voice interrupted my attempt of flight, "Can I join you, Bells?"_

_Jacob Black, all floppy dark hair and gangly limbs, made me smile. I quickly scooted over to make room for him. I was always excited when he came to visit us and I tried my best to seem adult to this boy who was only a few months my senior. "Hop up, Jake! Are our dads on the way back?"_

_"Yeah. They're trying to get a couple more fish before the storm hits." We sat on the swing quietly watching as large droplets of water started to plop down onto the ground. Jacob angled his body towards mine and said with a grin, "I brought you something."_

_I tried to temper my excitement. "Really, Jake? Thanks, but you didn't have to do that."_

_"No problem, Bells." Jacob reached into his pocket and pulled out a crushed daisy, handing it to me. "That wasn't supposed to happen! I didn't think it would get messed up like that! I just wanted to brighten your day."_

_"You did! Honestly, it's the tops!" I blushed._

_"Bella, someday I am gonna marry you. Promise! I'll ask Charlie and everything!" Jake exclaimed grabbing my free hand. As we heard my father's old Buick rumble down the dirt driveway, Jacob quickly pressed his lips to mine. That was the day that Isabella Swan fell in a childish love with Jacob Black._

Jacob had placed his hand on my arm to steady me and I pulled away from him flustered. "I'm fine, Jacob."

"Bella…" Jacob began, but something caught his eye and his tender look hardened. He let go of my arms and pointed to his crotch. "See something you like, Bells?"

I was shocked. Deep in my frozen heart, I had hoped that a part of Jacob had escaped his father's corruption. I guess I was wrong. I steeled myself against his degrading motion. "Nice to see you found a date."

"Huh? I am supposed to meet up with Tanya Denali, but she's not here yet," Jacob stated in confusion.

"I was referring to your hand, Jacob. You two look in awfully friendly terms."

Jacob laughed darkly. "Still got that smart mouth? There are so many things I would love to do with that mouth of yours."

He started walking towards me, as I backed away until my back hit a wall. I gave him a hard look. "Shouldn't you be waiting for Miss Denali at the entrance?"

"My father has a message for you, Bella. You are a part of our family, whether you like it or not. It's time to get into line and stop being stubborn. Renee is very interested in becoming reacquainted." I cringed and Jacob stared at me with a dark intensity that was hard to decipher. He glanced over to Sue who was pounding back glasses of pink champagne. "Not to mention, the mother that raised you needs to know how her son is doing."

"That's up to Seth, not me. He wants nothing to do with any dirty dealings and Sue is included in that while she's still involved with your family."

"You could at least let her know that he's alright, Bella! You're just being cruel!" Jacob growled.

I laughed bitterly. "What's cruel is my dear father rotting in prison for a crime he is innocent of! Have any insight on that, Jake?"

Jacob looked at me with his fists tight. I believed he would hit a dame with no qualms at all. I was looking forward to it.

"Excuse me, mister. The young lady here seems to be uninterested in whatever you're selling," A deep voiced boomed at Jacob. The voice turned softer saying to me, "Hey, Ducky! I am happy to see a good friend in this joint."

It was Officer Emmett McCarthy to the rescue. Not that I ever needed a rescue, but his twinkling eyes were a solace from Jacob's dark orbs.

Jacob, however, was the opposite of pleased. "Listen Officer, we're having a conversation here."

"I noticed and the lady isn't interested. If you don't want to accompany me to the station and would prefer to enjoy the fine food and drink at this shindig, then by all means please rejoin the party," Emmett said smirking. Jacob frowned at me and stomped over to his father who was having a heated conversation with Marcus Volturi. This was an interesting development. Emmett quickly gave me a quick peck on the cheek, looking around quickly not to be caught. I stared at him in shock. He was quite bold this evening. "Why Miss Ducky, you look very pretty tonight. Can I convince you for a spin on the dance floor?"

"It appears you're on the clock, Officer. It will have to be a different time." I smiled up to him, trying to hide the butterflies that were flittering in my stomach.

"Very true, Miss Bella and a shame that I can't show you what a ducky shincracker I am! For some bizarre reason, I was asked to be the security for the evening." Emmett bent closer to my ear, as the band started to play cords of introduction. "Oh joy, the queen of the night is entering the building. Long may she reign and make us all miserable! We should find Ali-girl. That Hale is bad news for her."

We quickly walked over to where Alice stood near the front, a sweet smile gracing her face. Rosalie Hale floated into the room decked out in a low cut scarlet dress, her blond hair in ringlets and diamonds cascading down her neck. Her arm was locked onto her fiancé's, the smug Royce King. His face was pinched like a rat's. Royce was a close friend of Rosalie's father, but I had a feeling his other dealings were of a more questionable nature.

Rosalie smiled at her guests. "Thank you all for joining me on my special day. It is a wonderful way to celebrate my joining the upper echelons of Seattle society. I also want to thank the little people for their support and admiration!"

As Rosalie said 'little people', she had the gall to look directly at Alice and give her a wink. Oh how I detest that harpy! I looked at Alice's face, her pretty head trying to find a positive spin on this situation. Then that miraculous girl put her head up high and gave Rosalie Hale the sweetest and strongest smile I ever had the pleasure to see. Alice Brandon was the real lady in this ballroom.

Rosalie returned Alice's smile smugly and glanced over to where I stood with Emmett. I watched in surprise as her face twisted into an angry sneer as she took in Emmett's hand placed on my waist. I looked up at him. "Do you know why she's looking at us like that?"

Emmett shrugged. "I have no idea. She's crazy. It's best you and Alice stay far away from her."

I nodded quickly and walked over to Alice and placed my arm around her. "You are the strongest woman I know."

"I wish. Just putting on a brave face," Alice admitted. "I did good?"

"The tops, Al!"

"Ladies, I just wanted to introduce you to my parents," Cullen said coming up behind us followed behind by his father, mother and Jasper.

"Yes, our parents," Jasper added looking sheepishly at Alice.

"I am Carlisle and this is Esme. Our boys have told us so many wonderful things about the two of you," Cullen's father said taking both Alice and my hands in his.

"I poured coffee on him. On purpose. Your son has boundary issues," I told Dr. Cullen, giving him a confused look.

"She's funny, Edward! That young lady is a keeper!" Cullen's mother laughed. I wasn't trying to be funny. She then embraced Alice in a hug. "And you darling, are the personification of grace and dignity! Jasper has been regaling us with all of you many attributes."

"Thank you," Alice quietly said, her eyes brightening. Jasper came up to her and took her hand in his.

He took his other hand and ran it over her cheek. "Beautiful Alice, I have so many things to discuss with you if you will allow me."

Alice nodded her head and he led her over to the side of the room. Cullen looked at me. "I think I owe you an explanation as well."

"Don't worry about it," I said glancing over at Alice and Jasper who were huddled close together. The music started to pick up and couples went over to the dance floor. My foot started to tap against the wooden floor.

"Let's cut a rug, Bella." Edward grabbed me and swung me over to the dance floor. I looked over to see Emmett glowering at my dance partner.

"I don't dance! I'm a dead hoofer!"

"Just follow my lead, beautiful." Edward started swaying me back and forth his hands on my hips making me feel warm inside. As the music filled our ears, our bodies were slowly being pulled closer together. Edward's lips moving closer and closer to mine until they finally touched. My body pulsed with electricity and need. It was as if this moment was kismet. This wasn't a good development. I stomped on his foot. Hard.

"Oww! Why did you do that?" Edward grimaced.

"I. . . You kiss. . . . Not appropriate. . . Good. . . Bad, bad dancer!" I had lost all ability to make a coherent statement.

"Miss Swan, did you not enjoy my lips on yours?" Cullen demanded.

"I'm on the job here, Mr. Cullen! It's my duty to report on the colors of the table cloths and if Miss Hale decided to adorn her hair with gardenias," I huffed. How dare he attack my lips in public! His mouth was tasty. No! He's the enemy. I am not some hussy! He's a good kisser. I need to run!

Cullen grinned at me and had the audacity to lick his lips. Lucky lips. I need to stop this. Did Emmett see him do this? What was Emmett's kiss about? I was so confused. Edward pulled me out of my thoughts by saying with a smirk, "You didn't answer the question."

I needed a way out. He was going to wear me down until I gave him all my story notes. Honorable men wouldn't kiss a lady in a room full of Seattle big wigs. I stood there stuck, until I heard Alice say loudly, "I can't do this!"

I jerked away from Edward and rushed over to where Alice stood looking angrily at Jasper. Next to him stood a nervous looking Tyler wearing waiter attire and holding a tray of champagne flutes.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Tyler is your band mate and your friend! You just grabbed drinks from him and ignored him. You just treated him like trash!" Alice exclaimed.

"Alice, darling, he is my friend! Let me explain!" Jasper began trying to grab her hand.

"No! No! I can't do this. People like you, Mr. Whitlock or Cullen are horrible! Or is it Whitlock Cullen? You make me snap my cap! We might be different colors, but Tyler and I are exactly the same! Do we not both have eyes and noses? Tyler composes the beautiful music that you all played the other night! He shouldn't be treated like a second class citizen! Instead Tyler should be held up to high esteem for his many attributes!" Alice took a deep breath and continued, "I see now that it is fine for you to slum around with people that are considered to be on the outskirts of fine society, as long as you can ignore them around your rich friends! But understand this, I would never deny such a decent and intelligent individual as Tyler, my respect in public. What's next? If you think it's fine to ignore Tyler here, will you later ignore me when I am working behind the counter at the store? You wouldn't want these fine people know that you are lowering yourself by courting a lowly shop girl! Let me tell you a not so little secret, Jasper whoever you are, I am too good for that!"

Alice ran out of the room. Cullen, Jasper and I followed her out into the lobby.

I saw Alice run into a stairwell and head down the stairs. We tried to quickly follow her, but she was much faster than all of us. I even threw off my dangerous shoes to pick-up speed. We started to make headway as we heard a loud scream echo through the stairs.

"Alice!" Jasper yelled.

We saw her at the bottom of the stairs, tears streaming down her lovely face as she pointed to the floor which a body laid sprawled in a puddle of blood.

**Your 1940's slang and important term dictionary terms**

Andy Hardy - Movie series starring Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland

Dead hoofer - Bad dancer

Ducky shincracker - A good dancer

Khaki wacky - Boy crazy

Licorice Stick - Clarinet

Olympic Hotel - A Seattle hotel that was built in 1924

Share crop - Sexually promiscuous girl

Snap my cap - Get angry

Two shakes of a tail feather - Quickly

Whistle dixie - To be wrong or mistaken


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you for reading.**

Chapter 5

"Isabella, stop kicking him!"

"I am nudging him, Brandon, nudging. Kicking is considered a forceful action." I placed my foot near the man's jacket covered arm and gave a small push. "No groaning means he's a stiff. Our first guess has been confirmed."

"You are going to get blood on that beautiful shoe!" Alice exclaimed with a stomp of her tiny foot, with Jasper's arms wrapped around her body. She alternated leaning into him and nuzzling, then trying to push the fake cowboy away.

I think Al was made that I put my shoe back on. Did she really think I was going to touch that stiff with an unclad toe? I think not!

I frowned at her, pointed down to my foot and then at the body. "You can't be serious, Alice! A shoe is more important than a man's life being snuffed?"

"I didn't say that! First topic of importance, of course, is the dead body. May he rest in peace." Alice gave a quick sign of the cross and continued by saying, "Second, is the condition of those shoes. You can't bring the dead back to life, Isabella Swan, but I can still sneak those back into the samples closet at work."

I could have pretended to be affronted by her words, but the tiny dame made sense. A minuscule amount of sense, but it was sensible never the less.

Edward, I mean Cullen, started to kneel next to my foot reaching for the man's hand. I kicked it swiftly. He squealed, "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Cullen, don't touch anything with your hands! You'll be disturbing evidence and adding fingerprints! The foot test is the best way for now. Also, look at the stillness of his body. Somebody bumped this man off and let's try to survey the scene for anything suspicious."

"Sweetheart, I think you've been reading too many five and dime novels," Edward announced in a condescending tone as he stood up and approached me.

"Pardon me, Mr. Cullen." Alice gave hard push away from Jasper and jabbed her pointer finger into Cullen's chest. "Bella knows all about police procedure! Her father is the best police chief a town could ever want to have!"

I could have killed her and just added her body to John Doe's. But, it was sweet of her to defend me. Oh Alice and your lack of filter!

"Your father is a police officer, Bella?" Cullen asked. His tone sounded inquisitive, yet his facial expression announced to have knowledge of the fact.

"He was and it looks to me that you already knew that. And it's Miss Swan, to you. Listen up, children. This is how we proceed. Al, head up and grab the boy wonder photographer. Don't tell him the real reason why. The walls have ears in that ballroom, got it! Just say we need some interior shots of the hotel! That's the ticket! Just bring him down here instead." I glanced over to the Cullen brothers. "You two buffoons try being useful. Look around and tell me if you see anything odd. No touching anything! Wait! Alice, do you have any kerchiefs in your handbag?"

"Sure thing, boss lady! Freshly laundered. I stuck two in there before we left. Don't you have some too?"

I shook my head in the negative, taking Alice's kerchiefs from her. "I needed to blow my nose into them. Seems I am allergic to insufferable bores with way too much money. There are quite a few upstairs."

Jasper started running his fingers through his golden curls in a motion that mimicked his brother's frequent finger combing. "Shouldn't we call the police? This is their job, Miss Swan. With all due respect, your father was the professional, not you."

"Let me explain a few things, Cowboy Curls. You need to do what I say or you can jump on your invisible horse and ride back to whatever imaginary prairie you rode in from. The police in this city are a bunch of crooks that are paid by the organized crime in this town. The D.A. seems to following the straight and narrow, but all the underlings are so dirty that their uniforms should be brown not blue. The only way to crack the case is to gather the evidence ourselves, before it can get conveniently lost or compromised."

"What about that friend of yours? The officer you spoke to upstairs?" Jasper asked, still looking slightly offended.

"You are correct, my favorite Cow Poke! You may come back into the saloon and I'll buy you a sarsaparilla! Emmett will be great help!" I exclaimed.

"He is not helping, doll." Edward scowled. "You just said all the cops in this town are crooked."

"There is always an exception to every rule and Emmett's that exception! Alice?" I asked looking at her.

"On my way," Alice said grinning giving me a salute.

I looked around at the surroundings. It was reasonably lit allowing me to survey the scene without needing my trusty flashlight. A good thing considering that the tiny beaded purse Alice made me carry was far too small to hold the large police edition light. Also, Alice refused to let me bring it.

The carpet that ran down the top of the stairs to bottom was luckily a lighter toned Oriental with pale blues and greens swirling in an intricate pattern that allowed the blood stains to be seen readily. I would never understand why the hotel need fancy carpeting in back hallways, but at this moment I didn't mind that. There was blood staining the stair's runner in little droplets and a large puddle that had soaked into the carpet surrounding the body. In our haste to reach Alice, none of us had noticed the stairs themselves.

"Alice! Watch your step! There is blood on the stairs too. Make sure the boys are informed," I said as she started up the stairs. Alice nodded quickly and carefully maneuvered her feet up the staircase.

Cullen approached and kneeled at the bottom step looking up at me. "Are you thinking the body was dragged down here?"

"Exactly, Cullen! I am surprised your limited intellect picked that up. Look at the positioning of the splatter. There are just little drips on the runner. I have a good feeling he was probably knocked out upstairs with something that might have made a small cut, dragged down here and finished off. That would explain the heavy blood flow being concentrated in one area near the body. I really can't be sure unless we flip the body over and get a close look at the wounds."

I started to bite my lip when Cullen took his fingers and gently pulled my lip away from my teeth. "Let's not do that shall we? It's a bit of distraction."

"What kind of distraction?" I asked with a roll of my eyes.

"It's the kissable kind," Cullen purred at me. The fake cowboy snorted behind us, getting a glare in return from Cullen.

Cullen grasped my hand as I stared at him. He was the distraction, a handsome and very confusing distraction. He guided me towards the body. "John Doe was a guest. Check out his monkey suit."

"He's also Quileute. Check out his at his skin tone. If only we could just get a good look at his face." John Doe's face was planted down on the carpet.

"Your cop boyfriend can take care of that," Cullen sneered, yet he continued grasping my hand.

I let my hand remain buried in his. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Do you want him to be?" Edward, no Cullen, tightened his grip and started rubbing my hand with his thumb.

"No. Yes. No. Maybe! I have no idea!" I pulled my hand away from the dastardly Cullen. Then more snickers from the obnoxious cowboy. I glared at the annoying blond this time. Then I refocused my attention bothersome red head. "Get your mind on track! What kind of reporter are you? Concentrate on the facts of the story, not trying to get this lady back to your place. I can assure you that would be the last place I would ever be. Honestly, Aro's drinking problem is flaring up again to hire the likes of you!"

Cullen and I frowned at each other, staring into each other's eyes, neither of us willing to give an inch. My word, Edward's a pretty man. No. This is bad. Need to find clues. To be perfectly honest, I needed to find clues before he did. Any information Cullen was to discover would be to further his journalistic pursuits. If this was in fact one of Billy's boys, then what happened tonight is bigger than a random act of violence. The various crime families jockeying for position in the city had to bubble over at some point. There are too many seedy characters attempting to be at the top of the bottom dwelling food chain. Charlie's suspicions concerning the fighting of the families running the drug, gambling, laundering and detestable prostitution rings could be coming to a head. This could finally be the chance to release Charlie from the dangers of the big house. It didn't matter how attractive Edward Cullen appears, he still a roadblock from my father's freedom.

I broke eye contact from that befuddling dandy and dropped on my hands and knees in order to get a closer look for hairs or fibers. I really needed a magnifying glass. Once again, curses to Alice's tiny beaded purse. I peeked up at Cullen and said, "Why don't you take a powder and check on the mood upstairs. Bring Roy Rodgers up with you and head on up to the chuck wagon and get him some provisions. He's looking peaked. "

"What have I ever done to you to make you mock me, Miss Swan?" Jasper questioned, still with a hint of a drawl.

"Mister, you seem to be confused about who you are. That makes Alice, who is like a sister to me, confused about the intentions you have towards her. If you hurt her, I will find a new home for that licorice stick. A very uncomfortable new home, if you get my drift." Jasper and Edward's faces were mirror images of shock. I gave a crooked smile up towards them. "Not to mention it's a gas to make fun of you. Alice and I took in _The Yellow Rose of Texas _at the movies last week. It has given me oodles of inspiration."

Cullen attempted to stifle a grin. "That's telling him, beautiful."

"Will you stop calling me names like 'sweetheart', 'doll' or 'beautiful'? It's bothering me and I find you even more ridiculous when saying such things," I said sulking, while trying to pull a blond hair that laid on John Doe's arm with Alice's kerchief. Eureka! Perhaps I have a clue!

"No, I won't stop regaling you with terms of my regard and no I won't leave you to comb for clues on your own." He dropped to his knees and tried to grab the kerchief out of my hands. "What do we have here, my little doodle bug?"

I slapped his hand away. "Go away! You are giving me the heebie jeebies, Cullen! Back off!"

"Is getting a story that important to you? I have a feeling there's something bigger afoot." Cullen looked over to Jasper who was nodding his head in agreement.

"Listen to me explain this to you one final time! You can take your feelings and stick them with The Lone Ranger's licorice stick where the sun doesn't shine!" I exclaimed when a series of footsteps came barreling down the stairs.

"Hold up, Emmett!" Alice's little voice rang out. "There's evidence on the stairs!"

Emmett's loud baritone boomed, "Evidence? What are you talking about? Well I'll be damned! Who the hell is the stiff? Beg my pardon, ladies! Not that I don't admire the view, but why are you crawling on the floor, Ducky?"

"Don't look at her like that way!" Edward roared at Emmett placing his arm around my waist in an awkward embrace on the floor.

I pushed my body up in order to remove Edward from my body. "Edward Cullen, spread out. I can't breathe here! Emmett, I am looking for clues!"

Emmett came over and pulled me up from the floor, "It looks like a mystery found us, Ducky. We better scavenge any leads before I have to call in Alec or Felix. Once they get their dirty paws in here the trail will get cold fast. Find anything to break the case, Brenda Starr?"

"The body was moved here while he was still alive and I am sure he was dragged unwillingly. You can tell by the faint blood particles on the stairs, but a larger amount surrounding the body. I have determined he was knocked out upstairs and the murderer dragged him down to finish the job."

"The perpetrator could have tracked the blood on the stairs when he went back up," Emmett said, as he took a closer look at the stairs.

"It's possible. Unfortunately, I have to disagree with you, Officer." Edward gave Emmett a smug smirk. "I am sure you are fairly capable in your profession, but those are drops of blood on the stairs and not bloody smears from footprints. Somebody was bleeding at least slightly either in the process of going upstairs or down here."

"I already said that I believed that those wounds were perhaps due to the original attack on the victim! If you were listening to me and not ogling, I think that would have been clear!" I glared at Cullen. Men! I looked closer at the body and back at my motley crew of would be detectives. "Let's say you are both right, gents. Perhaps our victim struggled, then awoke down here and fought with the murderer. In the process of snuffing out our John Doe, the villain was injured himself. The evidence of which is dripped all over the carpeting leading to his getaway. We would have blood from both of the parties involved."

Emmett nodded solemnly, "It would be best if we figured out who the victim is. We need to determine the exact cause of death."

"Those were my thoughts exactly!" Edward chimed in. "We'll have my photographer take some preliminary shots and then more as the investigation proceeds."

"My photographer, Cullen! Kid, come on over and get some shots of the unlucky devil." I motioned to Yorkie who was looking quite green in the corner.

"I think the boy is going to upchuck!" Jasper exclaimed with the grimace.

Alice ran over to Yorkie in a flash, pulling his cap off of his head. "Use this, Eric!"

In a matter of seconds, Yorkie took Alice's advice and heaved into his hat. His slight body convulsed in the waves of nausea. I stomped over and in between Yorkie's gagging, managed to grab the camera. "I'll just do it! I have to do everything here myself anyway! Alice, how about you and the cowboy run upstairs? See if there are any guests that have been bandaged up. It's a stretch, because he or she might have already left the building."

"We'll mosey on up the trail, Miss Bella," Alice agreed and giggled as Jasper frowned at the two of us. He gently took Alice's arm, and I noticed a slight smile play upon her lips as they left.

"You think a doll could bring down a big baboon like this guy, Bella?" Emmett questioned.

"Stranger things have happened," I answered, as I began to take a variety of pictures. I tried to get a variety of angles and close-ups of John Doe's extremities. As I took pictures of his hands, I found more strands of the blond hairs winding themselves around Doe's fingers. They appeared to be longer and darker than the original ones I found earlier. I needed sample of these too without Cullen noticing.

"Emmett, come here for a second. I need you to look at Yorkie's camera for me. It seems not be taking pictures correctly." I looked over at Emmett and jerked my head towards the body.

Emmett was jotting notes into a small journal that he pulled from his uniform, the stubby pencil making charcoal marks onto his broad fingers. "Can't the kid do it? I need to get this all down before anyone gets wise about us down here."

Drats! I looked over to Yorkie, the boy wonder, who was huddled into the corner trying to keep down the various delicacies that he was consuming at the party. It was surprising a man that slight could shovel in so much. I said more pointedly, "Does Yorkie look in the right frame of mind to be close to John here? Why don't you help us so we can move on out?"

That's when I gave him a wink. I am sure it might have looked more like I had gotten dirt in my eye with the odd squint that crossed over my face. Emmett didn't seem to mind, as he face burst into a bright smile with his pearly whites glowing from his tan face. I glanced over to Cullen who watched our exchange with a frown so deep that you could fall in and drown. Cullen answered for Emmett, "I will look at that piece of offending equipment for you, beautiful. I have quite the knowledge of photography and the inner workings of cameras. Officer McCarthy can continue to analyze his chicken scratch."

"I can decipher my writing just fine, Mr. Cullen. Ducky was asking for my assistance," Emmett growled at Cullen.

Cullen pushed himself past Emmett who was standing next to John Doe's head and sauntered over to me. "Big words like 'decipher', Officer? I must say I am pleasantly surprised by that vocabulary of yours. Also, please refrain from referring to Miss Swan as a waterfowl. She is far too pleasant to look at to equate her to a dirty bird. Unless, the beautiful young lady would like to be, in that case I would take her up on the offer."

My mouth flew open as he gave me a grin and plopped down beside me, grabbing Yorkie's camera out of my hands. That was a despicable comment to say to a lady, though I had to inwardly admit that I wasn't much of a lady and in the deepest recesses of my being wouldn't mind being his bird. These conflicting thoughts led me to stammer, "Why. . . I should. . ."

Emmett barreled over and took a hold of Cullen's shoulder. "Do you think that is in any way how you should speak to Bella?

"Are you trying to tell me that Bella can't handle what I'm saying? That lady is one tough cookie! I suggest letting her out of that gilded cage you are trying to protect her in and let her fly!" Cullen began his attention focused solely on Emmett. I quickly grabbed the hair around the Doe's fingers and shoved it down the front of my dress. It wasn't the best idea of the night, but at least Edward wouldn't see the dark blond lock.

"You sir, were the one that tried to get me to stop calling her 'ducky'. I suggest you refrain from telling me to do anything, Mr. Cullen," Emmett bellowed.

"I am not talking down to her like she's a little girl, Officer! I was merely continuing in our flirtatious banter."

I had enough of these two lugheads. "Gentleman, could you please lumber out of your prehistoric caves and talk to me instead of about me. I need to flip this body over and get some pictures of the front of this big galoot, before the rest of the Keystone Kops show up. No offense to you, Emmett. "

I started to struggle to flip over the body. Cullen lifted me up and held me against his warm body, as Emmett began to flip over the man's lifeless torso.

"Listen, Miss Swan. Let us men handle this situation. Why don't you find Alice and allow us to discover the truth of this unfortunate incident," Cullen announced with an infuriatingly condescending tone. He held me tighter moving his hands up and down my arms. I am sure his intention was to calm me. I was also sure I felt the need to stomp on his foot. So I did.

As that dandy started to screech at me, I exclaimed, "Don't you put you sleazy paws on me! I'm ten times the reporter you'll ever be! I have seen the seedier side of this world, while your mommy was cramming a silver spoon down your ignorant mouth. Don't you dare tell me to do! Wait a minute! Emmett, is that Embry McCall?"

I looked down at the glassy and blank eyes of Embry McCall staring up at me. It had been years, since I last seen his sweet face smiling at me on First Beach. He would always be the one that would give the girls the beautiful shells he found lying on the beach, even though the rest of reservation boys would laugh at him. I felt my eyes start to water at the remembrance and wondered how Embry found himself in this predicament.

Before I was able to wipe away an escaping tear, a frantic Alice rushed down the stairs. "Bella! Gar. . . Here!"

"Calm down Allie. Breathe and then talk." I took Alice's hands and tried to understand her garbled words.

Alice started to speak when a voice behind her rang out, "Fancy seeing you here, my dear Miss Swan."

Garrett Babcock! Oh Applesauce!

**Your 1940's slang and important term dictionary terms**

Applesauce - An expletive; same as horse feathers, as in "Ah applesauce!"

Brenda Starr- 1940's comic about a female reporter

Keystone Kops – Were fictionalized incompetent police officers in silent movies , one of the earliest in 1914.

Paws – Hands

Pops - Father

Roy Rodgers – Actor who portrayed a cowboy in films from the 1930's to the 1970's

Spread out – Move over

Take a powder- To leave

_The Yellow Rose of Texas_ – Roy Rodgers movie from 1944


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hi everyone. Finally back to try and working on this story. For readers from before the hiatus, the previous chapters have been fixed if you want to reacquaint yourselves with this story.**

**All mistakes are mine.**

**Thank you for reading!**

Chapter 6

Garrett Babcock was looking sharp in a tux that made me weak in the knees as he looked at me with a smile. "Miss Swan, you are a bone fide vision in that dress! A real black out girl."

I swallowed hard and regained my senses, angling my body to hide poor Embry's body.

"Garrett. Hi-de-Ho, you louse. Whatcha doing at fancy shindig like this? Shouldn't you be ferreting out the underbelly of society? Making note of their misdeeds for the good citizens to read over their morning bacon and eggs? Sending innocent men up the river?" I quipped. My belly was doing flip and flops. I knew I would keep flapping my lips, so I wouldn't fall for his charms.

Garrett had a way of making me into a dizzy dame of the highest order. His dark eyes and hair made feel like a eager beaver to get into his good graces. I couldn't and shouldn't trust him. I needed to ignore the smile he flashed me. Garrett was the one who wrote the story that sent my dad to the penitentiary and though he promised me his sources were true, I couldn't trust anyone in this corrupt town.

"It seems Miss Swan, you have a problem underfoot. I seemed this poor rube got offed." Garrett looked down at the body with his discriminating eye looking for clues. I felt myself being surrounded by my suitors. It was suffocating. "What have you gotten yourself into, pretty lady?"

Emmett hovered over me glaring at Garrett. He knew the pain that I was in after my father's arrest and how it wrecked me afterwards. I was never a dame that was over enthusiastic, but when I had my father in my life, I did find some joy in the everyday. The new version of Isabella Swan threw herself into ferreting out the truth and in swallowing down bottles of booze. This wasn't a life, but a runaway train barreling towards certain destruction.

That's when I felt Cullen's hand wrapped around mine. I looked up into his eyes and while Garrett made me giddy like a school girl, Edward Cullen made me feel like an amorous woman. There was far too many masculine distractions in this room to deal with when there was a stiff taking up space.

I pulled away and moved closer to a nervous Alice. "Gentleman, and I say this term loosely, I think. . ."

Cullen moved to shake Garrett's hand. "You must be in infamous Garrett Babcock! I've read some of your work. Not bad, but your sources are weak and I think you're getting some of your information from an old five and dime novel. I'm Edward Cullen, previously of _The Chicago Tribune_. You must have heard of me."

"Nope." Garrett glanced at the body and then at me. He was searching my face. "Never heard of ya, chump."

"That's a shame. I'm a legend," Cullen bragged. What a jerk, an attractive one, but a jerk never less. "Officer McCarty, can I take my gal and get a move on? She's looking a little faint."

"Bella?" Garrett looked surprised. He knew a stiff wouldn't get my dander up. "Doesn't sound like the same doll I know."

The same doll he would kiss breathless in the alley way after breaking a story. The same doll whose father he sent to the big house. A pretty face, doesn't make a person worthy.

"You don't know me, Garrett. You never did. Cullen, I need some air. Just let me ask Officer McCarty a question." I squeezed Cullen's arm and went over to Emmett.

"Ducky?" He whispered. "Find anything?"

"Pieces of long hair was wrapped in his fingers. Em, I can't give it to you." I searched his face.

"I know." He angled our bodies towards the wall and stuck a billfold into my purse, saying urgently, "Bella, hide this somewhere safe. I can't let the rest of the force know that any of this exists. We need to get in touch with the Feds."

I glanced behind me to see Cullen and Garrett puffing up like peacocks behind us. Daffy men. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in that corner behind the potted fern, Ducky." Emmett squeezed my hand. "It might be nothing or it could be the key to something huge. You need to get Waylon or even that dandy Cullen to look into this with you. It will be safer."

"Emmett, I can handle this!" I wasn't some ditzy dame needing a big strong man to hold my hand.

"I know you're a spitfire, but this smells like the dead fish on the South Side docks. All I'm saying is have some back-up for my own peace of mind."

"Isabella, my darling doll, we need to leave and let the officer to his job," Cullen cooed.

I was going to kick him again. It was destiny.

"On my way!" I turned and flashed him a fake smile. It made my gums hurt. I turned back to Emmett. "If I let Cullen help and end killing him, you have to get me off. It will be all your fault."

He just chuckled. "See you to tomorrow, kid."

I grabbed Cullen's arm and nodded at Garrett. "Have a pleasant night."

"Bells..." Garrett started to say as I kept my eyes forward and went up the stairs.

We were followed by Alice and Jasper. She whispered to me, "I think something's awfully shady about the way that poor rube was found tonight. I have a feeling there is something hidden, but..."

"I like the way you think, Brandon! You are one swell Girl Friday!" I looked at her excitedly. "We need to get into the place he lays his head each night and try do a search before the coppers show up."

"This is so exciting!" Alice exclaimed, as we reached the grandly decorated foyer of gilded golds and damask. It was a opulent to a fault.

I put my hand over her mouth. "Quiet, Alice!"

"Sorry!" She mumbled, covering my hand with both of hers. I glanced around to observe the bigwigs and coppers start filling in around us. The women in their shimmery duds were the pictures of fake disturbed shock, as they tried to sneak peeks at the crime scene.

Jasper looked at her with a frown. "No you don't, darling girl."

"You either, doll face." Edward pulled me away from covering Alice's mouth. "It's not safe for a dame to be sneaking around in the dark. There are nefarious ne'er do wells out there."

I saw my stepmother approach so I turned Edward so my back would be towards her. "Be charming towards me, Cullen."

"Isabella, dear?" Sue asked, tapping my shoulder. I turned and was surprised at what I saw up close. She had aged twenty years and her face was drawn into lines of sadness that were barely covered by the face paint that was caked on to her once youthful visage. "Please, could you tell me about Seth!"

"What could you possibly want to know about him, Sue?" I asked with disdain. I would not feel bad for that dame. She left my father high and dry to take off with that rotten Billy Black.

"Seth. Is he okay, sweetheart?" She grabbed my hands, as tears filled her eyes. Sue leaned in close and whispered, "Trust me that I'm trying to keep the two of you safe!"

I had no trust left. It was stripped from my soul with a dull knife and left to rot in the alleyways of the busy city streets. However, there was something about her eyes.

"I got a letter from him a week ago. Seth is still safe, but none to fond of the rations. He's in desperate need of a home cooked meal it seems."

She pulled me into a hug, her tears were making my neck damp. "Thank you! Would you tell him I love him?"

"Yes," I whispered, as she let go.

Taking a handkerchief from her clutch, Sue dabbed her eyes before rushing back to Billy.

There was fear in her eyes and I was curious about her mentioning that she was protecting us. Some more digging was in order and maybe we would find answers to this as well in Embry's apartment.

First, we need to be rid of these dapper dunces. I sniffed and dabbed my eyes with the sleeve of Cullen's jacket. If he wanted a wilting flower of a dame, he was getting one. "I'm feeling overwrought by seeing my stepmother again. I miss dear Seth, so very much that when she brought him up it made me feel positively bereft."

I blew my nose into his sleeve and made some weeping sounds like a silent movie starlet. Alice made an odd face at me. She knew my act was just that, and wasn't impressed with my thespian skills.

Cullen patted my back and moved my face up to look at his, I managed to squeeze out a few tears. He asked, "Beautiful, who's Seth?"

"My brother. He's in France protecting our nation of apple pie, George Washington and Bing Crosby!" I tried to appear patriotic, as Alice pulled me away.

"Bella needs her rest. Tonight has been full of emotional land mines for my sweet friend. We will take your leave, Romeos and get this girl to bed," Alice stated with her arm around me.

"What about your previous plans of detective work, ladies?" Jasper whispered skeptically. "What about uncovering the truth about the poor stiff downstairs?"

Alice smiled in her lovely way at him. "We shall let dear Emmett take up that cause. He is more than capable of the challenge. Poor Bella is so overwrought it breaks my heart!"

I leaned my head into Alice's shoulder and caterwauled like a damn female. Al whispered in my ear, "Stop overacting, Lana Turner!"

Cullen took my arm and Jasper escorted Alice to the door. "It our duty as gentlemen to escort you home, ladies."

Rats!

XXXXXX

They escorted us home, but we didn't stay. We had picked the lock and now sat on the floor of Embry's apartment, digging through cardboard boxes that had be hidden under his bed. We were trying to ferret out the truth with our flashlights.

The room had a fine layer of dust over the rickety furniture. It kept making Alice sneeze. The floor was littered with bottles of empty hooch, some of which that were smashed into pieces. The bed spread was covered in dark stains that made me turn up my nose in disgust. I was no little homemaker, but this whole room was a pigsty and had the most unfortunate odor.

"This place smells like the docks, Bella! Like dead fish!" Alice exclaimed. I snickered remembering Emmett's comment earlier. We needed to figure this out, before we ended up swimming with the fishes. She pulled out a bag that was on one of the boxes and peered inside. Letting out a tiny scream, she tossed it at me. "It _is_ a dead fish!"

Inside the bag was a rotting corpse of a trout, a knife stuck into its skull.

I tossed it in the corner. "Keep digging, Al! We need to get out of here before the coppers show up."

"Or before the smell kills us and we end up pushing up daisies!" Alice wrinkled her nose. The smell was clinging to the walls. How could the poor sap live in these conditions? "It makes me want to up chuck!"

I ignored her and kept going through the boxes. Piles of old newspaper clippings that were yellow with age and music notes scribbled on dance hall napkins. "All I have some clues that the dearly departed liked to dabble in tickling the ivories and connecting with his inner Cole Porter."

We continued to work under the dim light of our flashlights, as I stifled a yawn. My fingers were feeling gritty from the newsprint and remnants of food particles on the napkins. There was nothing to help us as far as I could see. It was no doubt a crime of passion. Embry was a dandy who did some poor blonde Sheba wrong and she offed him. It was so frustrating that . . .

"Gee whiz, Bella! I have no idea what I'm looking at, but it seems important!" She handed me a stack of paperwork.

It was piles of invoices from the Denali & Sons warehouses marked up in red pen. The Denali's, who in fact had no sons but daughters, were the Black's closest competition. They played friendly in public, even with the facade of Jacob's relationship with Tanya, but were ruthless embroiled in attempts to ruin the other.

The disappearance of the foreman who ran Eleazar Denali's warehouse and the loss of the weapons that were supposed to be sent to the front lines was what my father now stood convicted of. A Mr. Jason Jenks was a wizened, older man who kept the same schedule for over thirty years without deviation. He would never just leave his comfortable life. That made the general consensus that his abrupt leave of absence was foul play and the goods found in my father's home made him the prime suspect.

"I can't believe what a find!" I whispered loudly.

Alice gasped. "Photos!"

I grabbed them out of her hands. The first of the grainy, black and white images stood the elderly man with his hands up in the sir. A large man dressed in a long trench coat was holding him at gunpoint. I flipped through them and found evidence of a murder most foul. It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before. Our office was covered with photographs of graphic murder crime scenes that would make the common man shudder. Those were the photographs that usually wound up on the first page. It was until the final few images that made me gasp and see red.

"What is it?" Alice questioned excitedly, as she took them from my hands. Then she cried out, "Great Caesar's Ghost! It's your Pop!"

It was indeed. My dear father was lying on the ground knocked out senseless, as the poor old Jenks was getting whacked. No wonder it was easy to pin it all on dear old dad. They had him targeted at the very beginning.

"I bet he was trying to stop this murderous deed and the perps decided to frame him for their treachery. I wonder if the knock on his head made dad forget about the incident or if they clocked him before the deed was done." I squinted at the murderer holding the pistol over the poor stiff. "I can't get a good view of the dastardly villain's features, Al."

"I bet this was why Embry was whacked! He must be the photographer of this wicked deed!" She stood up quickly and threw on her coat, taking the invoices and sticking them in the large pockets. "Let's get them back home and look under a better light. You can use that giant magnifying glass, Sherlock Holmes."

I rolled my eyes at her. "You are a regular member of the vaudeville circuit, Brandon."

I put on Seth's trench coat and stuck the pictures inside the hidden pocket. It used to hold baseball cards of Babe Ruth's big mug and now held the key to Pop's freedom.

Without a word, we snuck down the stairs and out into the humid, summer night. The air was thick with deceit and treachery, as we headed down a dark alley. Alice grasped my hand tightly and I could feel it tremble. I kept my head up high and kept moving. Dad taught me young that fear was never an option.

"It's a little late to be out, ladies?" A voice as smooth as a saxophone asked behind us.

We both jumped and let out yelps. We turned to find Cullen and his brother grinning at us.

"Alice, this isn't the proper place for a lady to be seen. Why don't you let us escort home again, doll faces." Jasper winked at her.

"We are perfectly fine," I scoffed as I continued to walk with Alice.

That's when the sirens sounded nearby. Their loud wailing filled my ears. Cullen took my hand and pointed to Jasper who had Alice in his clutches. "Go the opposite way and get the car! We'll meet you in ten on the corner of Harris Avenue."

Cullen pulled me away and started badgering me. "Isabella, is there no way you can fathom keeping yourself safe?"

"No," I admitted truthfully. He stopped and turned me towards him. "I'm just dandy, Cullen."

I felt the heat of his hands on my upper arms making me feel a slight sway. "Nothing in that poor man's home is more important than your safety."

"Going there will save my father, so it _was_ worth it!" I whispered harshly.

His face went to the apples of my cheeks. Cullen rubbed them slowly. "Oh gorgeous, you are so brave."

My breath hitched, as I made out his features in the dark. I felt so safe, as my heart beat in a maddening fashion. That's when the sound of boots and a flashlight shone into the night.

Cullen pushed me against the wall, as his lips pushed against mine.

Egads!

**Your 1940's slang and important term dictionary terms**

Babe Ruth - Baseball player for the New York Yankees

Bing Crosby - Actor and singer

Black out girl – A cute girl

Cole Porter - Music Composer

Coppers - police

Daffy - Silly

Dunces - idiots

Lana Turner - Actress

Pushing up daisies - Dead

Sheba - A woman with sex appeal (from the move Queen of Sheba) or (e.g. Clara Bow)

Swimming with the fishes - Dead

Up the river - Going to jail


End file.
